


Learn to Love.... And Hate.

by Harrishawksuperiour



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Arkanis Academy, Awkward First Times, Awkward Kissing, Awkward Sexual Situations, Boarding School, Bullying, Commandant Hux - Freeform, Consensual Underage Sex, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cruelty, Death, Discrimination, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Evil Snoke, F/M, Female Protagonist, First Kiss, First Love, First Meetings, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gang Rape, Getting to Know Each Other, Hand Jobs, Heartbreak, Horny Teenagers, Hux Backstory, Hux Senior, Imperial Officers (Star Wars), Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Insanity, Isolation, Loneliness, Loss of Virginity, Male-Female Friendship, Manipulation, Medical Trauma, Medicinal Drug Use, Mental Breakdown, Mental Disintegration, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Morning Cuddles, Morning Kisses, Neck Kissing, Oral Sex, Orphans, Porn Watching, Pre-Battle of Starkiller Base, Pre-Movie(s), Prison, Protective Hux, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Revenge, Romantic Friendship, School, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Sexual Experimentation, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Snoke Being a Dick, Students, Suicide, Teen Romance, Teenagers, Time Skips, Tragic Romance, Tranquilizers, Underage Rape/Non-con, Vaginal Fingering, Virgin Hux, Young Hux
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-14 16:39:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7180637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harrishawksuperiour/pseuds/Harrishawksuperiour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What else could one expect from an Imperial academy? Superiority. Condescension. Belittlement. To be different was to be hated. Greya finds herself the recipient of a scholarship to the Arkanis Academy and the Cadet program under the direction of Commandant Brendol Hux. Isolated and alone for her background, the brown eyed Corellian endures the bullying and exclusion on a daily basis but it turns out the Commandant's own son is just as lonely as she is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vagabond

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me fully formed last night and I had to write it! Might tank but we'll see. Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greya arrives at the Academy but the welcome is non-existent.

What else could one expect from an Imperial academy? Superiority. Condescension. Belittlement. To be different was to be hated.

 

She was different and they didn’t let her forget it. She didn’t look different; perhaps she was a little smaller than the rest but other than that…..  

 

No, what made her different was her background. It looked good for the Arkanis Academy to offer a scholarship as a trial program; as a way of reaching out to the community and showing some sort of inclusivity for the ordinary among the privileged. It just so happened that said scholarship was won by a fourteen year old from an orphanage on Corellia.

 

Greya Vardai left the Coronet City Orphanage and into the unknown to arrive on Arkanis in time for orientation. At five foot and five inches; she was not imposing or threatening but confidence and fire counted for plenty. The new uniform was snug rather than tight; black and breathable but staunch against the movement of her body. The heavy black boots were no better, close against her calves and with little give in the cap if she flexed her toes. She told herself she’d get used to them; she just needed to break them in.

 

The Academy itself was daunting. The orphanage had been nothing special but the change from bricks, mortar and plaster to the overwhelming envelopment of dead metal left a little tingle of discomfort in her system. The floors, the walls, the ceilings; everything was cold and stannic. The theme continued into her room (which she surprisingly wasn’t expected to share) of greys and blacks alternating in the sterile metallic design. The bed was somewhere between a single and a double in size in the corner of the room and scarcely covered with thin sheets of unfeeling white; the door opposite served as a closet and the wall beyond said closet was the refresher. The scheme didn’t seem to vary. Like the boots, she persuaded herself she would get used to it.

 

The brunette expected a packed events hall but when she looked around at the unfamiliar faces, she felt her stomach coil even tighter to a bundle of nerves though it seemed to recruitment to the Cadets had been quite small. Whether that was better or worse, she had yet to decide but for now it meant more blending in. Of the approximately twenty four recruits, the brown eyed Corellian was only one of three females. While the other recruits may not have known each other personally, they knew their own and they knew an outsider. Greya (inexplicably) radiated foreignness and it seemed to cause a ripple of unwelcome in the rest who felt she didn’t belong.

 

There were plenty of seats on the layered benches where she could have slipped in but when she tried, someone would shuffle over and spread their group to prevent the blow-in from sitting down. Those who were already at the edges of the seats rolled their eyes and blew out impatient huffs when she passed. Eventually, she found a seat at the back and sat down though her discomfort only climbed. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

 

There was a rustling of twenty four students sitting up and fixing their postures before the silence of the room (if it was possible) intensified. Looking over the heads, she found the podium at the bottom had been claimed by a tall, lean and fire haired man. Commandant Brendol Hux. Her immediate impression by looks alone were that the head of their group was strict, unwavering and possibly cruel. When he spoke; he was cold, direct and commanding and Greya understood now why her classmates had fixed themselves. This man expected the best.

 

 **“You are here….”** He began into the microphone and amazingly, the reverberation just seemed to shake the ice in his voice enough to drop the temperature in the hall. **“Because you know there is something bigger than you. You know that that something hangs in a very delicate balance. One wrong move by an army, one wrong word by a politician and it can crumble. I know of many of your families and I know of their concerns. With every passing day that the Republic exerts its hold on the galaxy, we are ever closer to it descending into war and unrest again.”** He paused to let the students soak and looked around, his eyes almost hawkish. He spoke from no prompter or notes; his speech was delivered from experience and with clipped passion.

 

**“For too long, there has been too much bloodshed, death and destruction in the wake of the Republic’s rule and you’re here today as the next generation; to join our cause, to rise up and take the galaxy back from those to whom it does not belong. To survive and persevere; you will need order, regimen, dedication and above all, you will need discipline. Without these, you cannot hope to be part of restoring the galaxy to its former glory and shaping the futures of those who depend on us to protect them from their current stranglehold. I know you will all do well and I look forward to serving as head of your battalion. Welcome to the Cadets.”**

The light, polite applause peppered the atmosphere in the hall and the Commandant appeared to deem himself above acknowledging it. When their leader stepped down, the names of those present were announced with a pause and they were simply instructed to raise their hand in noiseless response.

 

 **“Bast.” “Brandei.” “Cabbel.” “Childsen.” “Dyer” “Evax.” “Gherant.” “Hux.” “Jerrjerod.” “Jir.” “Khurgee.” “Lennox.” “Motti.” “Needa.” “Nemet.” “Ozzel.” “Piet.” “Praji.” “Tagge.” “Tanbris.” “Treidum.”** Then….

 **“Vardai.”** As the others had before her, Greya’s hand rose though it shook a little. Subtly, heads turned and eyes flickered as the well-bred and young of the military aristocracy regarded their invader. Even the Commandant who stood, disinterested, from beyond the podium glanced up and looked for the hand of the scholarship recipient. The stillness lasted less than thirty seconds though Greya could have sworn it to be longer. The names continued after that as if she was just another student.

 

**“Veers.” “Yularen.”**

* * *

 

 

The discrimination continued. For the first two days; Greya was avoided, elbowed in the hallway, glared at and anything else her classmates could do to make her feel unwanted was done with the utmost effect. Unperturbed, Greya brushed it off but resolved that maybe to do this alone was not the best approach. As had become the habit on the first day at orientation, Greya was blocked from sitting down at a table in the canteen though the space was plentiful.

 

Cliques had formed and they all seemed to have one goal in common: Alienating the outcast. It seemed their disgust had sprung from superiority; they were born of the warmongering elite, backed with countless units, alliances and had chosen their groups based on those values. Even the two other girls within the battalion (who both seemed to know each other already) wanted nothing to do with her. So Greya glided through the aisles of packed tables and when she went to sit down, a sudden effort was made to stop her so she would try elsewhere.

 

With no free tables and lunch time beginning to dwindle; Greya looked around helplessly, almost tempted to pocket what she could and eat in her room later. But in another corner, she spotted an almost empty table. Tray clasped hopefully, the female approached and found one of her classmates sitting alone. That boy (well, he was about fifteen), she had seen him at orientation; or more accurately, the back of his head. And that red head was impossible to mistake.

 

“Is there someone sitting here?” He seemed to be too immersed in his own food and so didn’t even look up when Greya spoke.

“No.”

“Okay, do you mind if I sit down?” Again, he was too involved with his own meal to spare her a glance.

“I suppose you may.”  Grateful to get off her feet, Greya’s tray met the table and when she sat; her classmate still hadn’t looked up. However, when she started removing her cutlery from the plastic packaging and taking the lid off her yoghurt, she felt eyes on her; boring in with disapproval. Just like the others.

 

“I would recommend you invest in some hair ties.” Greya looked across the table to see she had been noticed after all. Her spoon paused over the open carton with confusion. He was talking to her?

 

“I…. What?”

“Hair ties. To wear your hair down is against uniform regulation; I’m surprised you haven’t been reprimanded for it yet.”

“Uhh…. Okay? I’ll bear that in mind.” She started to eat but promptly stopped to investigate the furthered staring. Maybe she should have kept looking for another table.

 

“You’re the one they call Vagabond.”

“Look mate, I’ll move tables if you want….”

“You may as well stay, lunch is almost over.” He sniffed and returned to the remains of his own, poking them listlessly with his fork. Mildly insulted, Greya tried refrained from further interaction but he was looking at her again; curious if anything. He’d heard the murmurs of the one the Board had let into the prestigious Academy as a PR stunt; the orphan, the urchin. She wasn’t what his imagination conjured though; she wasn’t dirty, ugly or poorly nourished…. Quite the opposite of those things.

 

“Why aren’t you sitting with them?” The question was quiet and her focus was on the tasteless dairy, as if the word ‘Vagabond’ had hurt her. “Thought you’d be one of the popular ones.”

 

“I’m assuming you mean because of who my father is?”

“What else would I mean? You’re one of them. The rich, the powerful, the untouchable.”

“Well, you’ll be surprised to learn that the Commandant doesn’t treat me any differently to how he treats the others and therefore, they gain nothing by pretending to be my friends so they don’t bother.”

“I see….” They lapsed into silence again while he continued to scrutinize her. Veers and Lennox had commented on her hair colour, Jir had remarked upon the way she walked and Nemet had made some disgusting observation on how her rear was shaped by her uniform trousers. Of course, he was not part of these conversations; merely listening from a respectable distance though he was sure the subject could hear them too with how she shifted shamefully in her classroom seat.

 

Greya tried to ignore him. She tried to ignore the way those bluey green eyes (she couldn’t decide which they were) swept over her face and how his pale, freckled nose wrinkled slightly in seeming offense by her ignorance of how the Academy was run. He took in the light kinks of the milk chocolate shade of her hair and the light dusting of tan on her skin. The physical judgements on her appeared to be unjustified.

 

“Did you start that strategy assignment?” His concentration shattered and he blinked to re-zone himself. He was merely answering questions and keeping them as short as possible; if he needed to ask her to repeat it, she might get the impression it was an inclusive conversation.

 

“I’m almost finished.”

“Huh? We got it yesterday!”

“So?”

“I haven’t even started; it’s not due till next week!”

“I would advise you to keep on top of your workload. It’s only going to get more intense.”

“Thanks for the tip.” The intercom to remind them of the end of lunch disrupted the rocky and somewhat bitter conversation chimed and Greya wasn’t sure if it was a mercy or not. Getting to her feet, her scarlet-headed classmate was slower but somehow more efficient in the endeavour. “I guess I’ll see you around.” She remarked with an annoyed quirk of her lip, he simply arched an eyebrow in return as his bag swung up over his shoulder.

 

“Perhaps you will. Vagabond.”


	2. Brute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combat class proves to be a very useful tool for instilling even more hatred into the aristocracy.

By the end of her first week at the Academy, Greya had realized and accepted that she would be alone for the remainder of her time there. The phrase ‘Vagabond’ became more widely used, both to her face and behind her back. Even behind her back, she could hear it whispered. Stupid thoroughbreds. Was Vagabond really the best they could come up with? Was that all their pampered minds could fathom? Were their childhoods so shallow that Vagabond was the closest thing they could conjure to a curse word or scarring insult? She was stronger than them. She was more experienced than them. She knew real danger unlike them. If Vagabond was all she had to worry about, she would keep her mouth shut, her head down and humiliate them all.

 

 

She hadn’t spoken to her redheaded classmate since that day in the canteen. She had seen plenty of him in classes but their conversations amounted to a grand total of one.  He claimed he had no affiliations with the others, maybe he didn’t. But by alienating and ignoring her like they did, he was no better; despite his air of bitter superiority. Grudgingly, she had taken his advice and bought hair ties (with the little money she had) and when he noticed the thick, waving, chocolate ponytail; he regarded her with something of a smug wrinkle of his nose then turned back in his seat. Condescending didn’t begin to cover him and maybe he disdained her that little bit more than the others.

 

 

So when his back hit the training mat with blood pumping from his nose to match his hair, Greya didn’t bat an eyelid. _Asshole._ Skinnier than she realized and far paler; his vest top and shorts revealed just how pasty, gangly and bony he was. There was a slight curl of annoyance in the Commandant’s lip though he did his best to remain passive when his son’s agonized moan met his ears and was scooped off the floor by a waiting medic. Rolling his eyes, he ignored the younger redhead and surveyed the lightly sweating victor with something he barely displayed as approval. Then he decided to shake things up.

 

 

 **“Vardai.”** The coldness woke her from her bored daze like an icy bucket of water. It was like he was indulging in his very own fighting ring. All twenty-four of them, fighting two at a time under Hux Senior’s scrutinizing eye was probably barbaric but if it didn’t surprise Greya that it was expected of them. Stepping out onto the mat to face Nemet; the one who had commented on her rear in her uniform trousers, she was surprisingly unafraid. Nemet was tall, he was broad and he was ugly. And needless to say, judging by the state of the human toothpick, he was merciless.

 

 

Greya stood maybe four feet from Nemet, choosing to tune out the scornful remarks and the cruel laughter born of one of their own getting the opportunity to put some manners on the Vagabond. Well, sort of. Nemet’s first mistake was lunging for her which had been her reason for keeping back; she knew what he would do. It also meant that while he stumbled and recovered, she could elbow him hard into the back of the neck. Scandalized, outraged cries erupted in the training hall as Nemet collapsed face first onto the mat. Her classmates turned to the Commandant for justice, almost demanding she be stopped but the elder had no intention of halting the exercise. In fact….

 

 

 **“Get up, Nemet.”** The lazy, probing gaze was on the lump before her now. **“Unless you want to be remembered as the man who got bested by an orphan, a woman at that.”** Nemet flipped himself over and panted with a pained groan while he crawled along the mat to procrastinate getting up. The Commandant’s words resonated with him. He wouldn’t be bested by the Vagabond. Nemet made a grab for her ankle from where he’d failed to get up. In an attempt to use his obvious strength advantage and whip her leg out from under her, Greya was faster. Before the male could jerk her, he received a swift and crushing blow from the other heel into the jaw.

 

 

Sure, it hurt her too but she had learned not to show it. It was more than worth it to see the blood dribbling from between his lips and the effort he put into spitting with his (later diagnosed as fractured) jaw. The satisfaction only intensified when those weak attempts birthed more blood and the weak rattle of a tooth tumbling down onto the sweat soaked mat. The fury and indignation rose again, seemingly unable to accept the defeat of their unofficial champion but the Commandant paid them no heed. He was far too busy looking over the conqueror and she looked back at him. With a dismissive nod, the class was dissolved so Greya made a break to collect her bag and return to her room to shower. As fulfilling as it had been, she couldn’t help but notice how she had flared her comrade’s hatred even more.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Two days later, Greya sat alone in the canteen. She’d managed to secure a rickety table in a dark corner where she could continue her isolation in peace. Poking listlessly at some sort of half-cold stew with her pretty face contorted in mild disgust, a tray being set down opposite her own was some sort of distraction; good or bad, she wasn’t sure.

 

 

“Seat’s taken.” She growled automatically without looking up, even the bloody dinner roll was almost inedible.

 

“No, it isn’t.” Off the cuff, self-righteous, rude. It could only be one person. _Oh Gods, not you._ Greya looked up to see the redhead already sitting down and off-loading his tray without a second thought for the female’s protests. Even if he was settled, she was going to keep going; the terrible quality of her dinner just seemed to fuel her irritation even more.

 

 

“Yes, it is!”

 

 

“No, it isn’t. No one likes you, remember?” Greya’s nostrils flared in utter vexation and while he stripped the plastic from his cutlery and started to chew away with contentment, she had to doubt his previous claims about being treated like everyone else. Said suspicion came from the dreamy curls of steam rising from his bowl and wafting across to tickle her nose while hers did nothing to rouse her. Either the staff didn’t like her as much as her classmates or she was just unfortunate enough to get the end of a batch while he got the beginning of a fresh one.

 

 

Greya looked around the canteen with biting impatience; all the other tables seemed to be full and she knew from experience that if she tried to edge her way into an already occupied table, she would be ejected in record time. It seemed even the older students in years above her (despite knowing nothing about her) were just as ruthless as those her own age. She was stuck at the table with the Commandant’s son of all people. That vile, rat-faced, teacher’s pet, fart-smell-

 

 

“They’re calling you Brute now.” He informed her lightly and crashing her train of thought. He was on the verge of swallowing his scalding mouthful; to speak allowed just enough air in to cool it before he did. Greya wasn’t interested in his teasing report; she wanted to get this horrendous dinner into her and be done with it. The sooner she could do that; the sooner she could escape from his suffocating presence. It was bad enough he was overly enjoying his meal to (in her opinion) purposely rile her when he could see she wasn’t touching hers but to speak to her when she clearly didn’t want him to?

 

 

“I know.” He looked up suddenly and Greya felt the sweet stab of gratification when she noticed the twinge of disappointment in his face though he was still chewing. She hadn’t looked up properly yet but she didn’t need to see him face on to catch a glimpse of his expression.

 

 

“What do you mean you know?! How do you know?!” He’d swallowed a little too quickly and felt the burn of the Bantha meat sliding down his throat, scratching with discomfort as he made the demand.

 

 

“Lennox spat at me yesterday and screamed it so I assume I’ve been upgraded from Vagabond now. Or downgraded?”

 

 

“She took it especially difficult.” He agreed, poking through the bowl looking for another lump of meat among the vegetables. “They’re something of a couple but I don’t see how that would work. And anyway, it’s against protocol.”

 

 

“Gods, do you ever shut up about protocol? No wonder you don’t have any friends.”

 

 

“Protocol is important.” He replied haughtily but his nostrils stretched into an offended sniff. Maybe that was a sore spot. So? If he was going to dish it out, he had to be able to take it. “I’m better than those people.”

 

 

“No you’re not!” Greya argued, raising her voice but dropping it again, self-conscious, when people turned to look. “You’re exactly the same as them if not worse! You seem to think you have some advantage over the rest of us but guess what? You don’t! You think all this crap about protocol is going to help you? It’s not! You know what you’re doing? Talking down to people, making snide suggestions? You’re driving people away! Maybe that’s why the others don’t want anything to do with you! You’re painful!” He didn’t seem to have an answer for that. If anything, he dipped his head and continued to root through the thick broth clouding the ingredients, dejected. Had it been anyone else, she probably would have apologised for the outburst but she wasn’t going to, not this time. He was quiet, almost to a wounded extent, but wouldn’t stay that way for long.

 

 

“Where did you learn to do that?” Reticent, he was almost afraid to speak again. That greeny blue gaze was trained down on his bowl, fishing around in it but reduced to picking out the pieces of vegetables before he drank the broth. If she’d noticed, his eyes appeared a different shade from the last time they spoke, simply by the darkness of the corner they’d occupied.

 

 

 _“Gods….”_ Greya sighed, exasperated, reminding herself that murder was illegal. “Where did I learn to do what?!”

 

 

“What you did to Nemet. It was…. Impressive. It’s been a long time since my father looked at anyone that way.” _Me included._ Greya wasn’t really keen to have this conversation. The less anyone (Hux Junior especially) knew about her background, the better. It couldn’t be used against her. They had made their own assumptions; some of it true, some of it not but it was best to keep them guessing. At least if they teased her about the wrong things, it wouldn’t hurt as much. Dead parents though; that was always a winner, that always stung. And they used it very effectively.

 

 

“You don’t grow up in an orphanage and not learn how to kick the shit out of someone.” She ignored the visible flinch at the curse word; theory of limited vocabulary: Confirmed.

 

 

“You fractured his jaw, dislodged a tooth.” There was a degree of awe as her classmate recounted the injuries he’d overheard in the medbay from Nemet’s medic in the next cubicle. He may have been watching the fight from the side-lines in bad condition but that didn’t stop him replaying it over and over again in his mind and the last frame was always The Vagabond. Or Brute as she was now known. He remembered her panting, strong and unchallenged until he couldn’t remember anymore.  

 

 

“Mmm, I thought it might be something like that. It would’ve been overkill to break it.”

 

“You can do that?”

 

“Yeah, want to be my guinea pig?”

 

“No but…. Can you teach me?” Greya stared, disbelieving while he stared back, hopeful and nervous. He’d been defenceless at the Academy for years, more years than he cared to admit. True, this was his first year of academia in the Cadets but with his father presiding over such a prestigious post; his only heir was, of course, going to spend more time there than he desired. Whether he liked it or not.

 

 

“Teach you.” Greya repeated sceptically with an arched eyebrow to convey just how utterly ridiculous she found this notion. He swallowed and waited for a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’. “You want me to teach you?” He probably would have scolded himself if he saw his desperate little nod that rocked from his neck muscles but the female saw it. “So, hang on, you’ve done nothing but insult and belittle me since I got here and you want me to _teach you?”_

“Well…. Yes. I mean…. It would be very beneficial-“

 

“To who?! You don’t even know my name!”

 

“I do. It’s Vardai. Unless you prefer Vagabond? Or are you more enamoured with Brute now?”

 

“You’re doing it again! And Vardai is my second name, genius!” In his lengthy exposure to the Academy, how was it possible that not everyone went by their surname? His eyes flickered to the side while he tried to comprehend it.

“So…. What name do you go by?”

 

“My name is Greya.” She was hesitant to part with the information, perhaps she was being too closed. Perhaps not.

 

“Greya.… That’s…..”

 

 

“Yes, I know.” Testy didn’t cover how Greya responded to the unfinished sentence nor did she bother to take in the thoughtful expression touching his pale features when he processed the name. “Greya. Grey. Like banal and boring and monotonous! I get it, okay?!” Taken aback, the male opposite her shifted uncomfortably at the second outburst that hadn’t quite been warranted this time.

 

 

“Alright….. I was going to say pretty and unusual but alright.” It was Greya’s turn to be embarrassed. Hurriedly, she took a gulp of her tea to alleviate the tenseness but found herself forcing it back and to keep it down while it assaulted her taste buds. How did they get tea wrong?!

 

 

“And you?”

 

“Hux is fine.” Taken aback had shifted into indifference.

 

“Riiiiiiiiiiight. So Hux. Say I do this, what do I get out of it?” Hux shifted again in his seat, he hadn’t thought that far ahead; why didn’t he think she’d look for something in return? She didn’t owe him anything, she was more than entitled to compensation.

 

“Uhh…. I can help you with assignments?”

 

“I’m doing well enough on those on my own. Next.”

 

“I can pay you?”

 

“I don’t want your money. Next.” The next suggestion was a long shot but it was his last chance, his last card left to play.

 

“I can get you better food?” Slowly, Greya looked up from her poor excuse of a meal. That got her attention so he obliged by eagerly elaborating, anything to snag her time. “I’ve been here for years; I know the staff. They keep the better portions for the officers, that’s what I get. Teach me and I can get it for you too.” Now _that_ was tempting.

 

 

“And when and where would you be suggesting these side lessons? Because we’d need a training room and curfew-“

 

“Curfew isn’t a problem. The patrols on the corridor are timed, I know them by heart by now. We would need to be quick in between the patrols; if we get caught, the consequences would be dire. Our corridor-”

 

“Our corridor?” The female repeated dubiously, spotting that little oversight. Chances were, they would be coming from two different areas.

 

“Yes, we live on the same corridor.”

 

“No, we don’t!”

 

“Block L, Eastern quadrant.”

 

“I…. Are you stalking me?!”

 

“Oh for goodness sake, they keep the Cadets in close quarters! Just because you haven’t seen the others doesn’t mean they’re not there!” That was unnerving. She was physically closer to the classmates who despised than she realized.

 

“Whatever. And the training room? We won’t be able to use the one in the Northern quadrant where classes are held. There’s too much footfall.”

 

“You’re right.” He probably didn’t say that very often to another person. Hux sat forward then paused as if calculating before the solution came to him. “There’s an unused one off Block H and there’s a shortcut to it through a hole in the wall. It’s been decommissioned for the last few years to my knowledge so it’s impossible to tell what state it’ll be in. It’s worth a try.”

 

 

The pair watched each other for a moment, such a deal had plenty to be gained on both sides. Food and self-defence. Both important in a place like this where ridicule was rife. Eventually, it was Greya who broke the negotiating silence.

 

 

“Well, Hux. Looks like we have a deal. Come get me after curfew tomorrow night and the food upgrade starts the day after when you’ve had time to have a word. Let’s do this.”


	3. Rest Week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux makes progress in the training room and Greya makes a strange proposition.

“I’ll bet my dessert that you broke his arm in _at least_ two places.” Greya observed, tilting her head and torso to the side, cryptically and smugly informing her redheaded cohort who jogged back to the side-lines. Hux took the water bottle she held out to him and took a mouthful, swishing it around to wash out the blood from a hit he took to the face then knocked back another.

 

 

“Think so?” He did sound strained, he wasn’t the fittest but he’d come on in leaps and bounds in the last few weeks of toiling in a training room; it was visible in him and not just physically. He walked with confidence now, not shrunk away and cowering when someone came too close. Perhaps it was more than just self-assurance that he could protect himself better than before but now, he was no longer alone. Wherever the Commandant’s son went, he had the pretty brunette at his side. “Congratulations on making Veers cry.”

 

 

“Cheers. You heard me. I’d bet my dessert; you know I have food aggression.” Dining together out of habit for the last few weeks, walking together in the corridors and sitting beside one and other in classes meant he knew the Vagabond better. Or Greya, as she preferred to be called. So he could attest to the claims of food aggression. “Look at the way he’s holding it.” Hux obeyed, lifting his blue-green gaze to the meaty figure of Cadet Piet. His right arm stretched below his left, supporting the length from his wrist to his elbow. “If that was broken in one place, he’d only hold it in one place. He’s not but we’ll find out soon enough. Nicely done.” Greya’s next question was more sweetly chirped rather than sinister. “Dinner?”

 

 

“I thought you’d never ask. I’m starving.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The usual table in the dark canteen corner with the rickety legs was claimed when two trays met the surface, one across from the other, exactly as it had been for weeks. Two bottoms soon warmed the benches as they settled and seemed to remove the plastic from their cutlery in sync. While Hux had come on physically and in his self-assurance, Greya could now say with certainty that she looked forward to meal times; now was a marvellous example. Nerf steak, roasted Corellian potatoes, plump Antarian peas, soft carrots and all smothered with a thick, steaming Dioche sauce.

 

 

 _“Nerf steak.”_ The brunette female did all in her power not to salivate as the smell of meat invitingly caressed her nose, gloriously seasoned and cooked to perfection. Hux watched her with a playful smirk; he’d found himself doing that a lot lately. Perhaps she hadn’t noticed, he would have preferred that but for now, he was happy to watch her slice through the slab with ease and savour the first bite. They sat in companionable silence as they cut, stabbed and chewed; that too was the norm; to enjoy their (superior) food and talk later while they digested. “I don’t think I can move.” Greya whimpered once she’d set down her fork for the last time, dinner and dessert were now a fond and tasty memory. “I can’t…. You’re gonna have to carry me.”

 

 

“What makes you think I can carry you when I can barely carry myself?” Hux replied with bloated exhaustion, arms folded on the table and lifting his head from them to look at her. “We’re just…. Going to have to stay here for a while….”

 

 

“You calling me fat, Hux?” The accusation was in jest; to call her fat would have been a lie. No, Greya was _curvy;_ he noticed that too.

 

 

“I’m brave but I’m not stupid.” The muffled retort came when he rested his head back down in his arms as a mechanism to cope with the feeling of fullness; it was painful just then but his system would eventually cope to break it down. As would Greya’s.

 

 

“I think training’s off tonight.” Greya murmured, hooking her feet to the legs of the fixed table and leaning back in her seat; hoping the action would stretch her stomach and alleviate the feeling of crippling fullness. Hux whimpered his agreement, again without looking up.

 

 

“Good thing next week is rest week.” He forced himself to speak, almost hoping that any sort of bodily activity might help burn off the food. Talking seemed to be the easiest. “If we’re going to keep eating like this, every week will need to be rest week. Speaking of rest week….” The redhead practically dragged his face from the comforting support of his forearms. Rest week, of course, was a holiday of sorts where student classes were suspended and pupils could return home for the week if they so chose. “Are you going home?” Greya arched an eyebrow with an unimpressed curve of her lip though still leaning back in her seat.

 

 

“What, to the _orphanage?_ What do you think?”

 

 

“Right…. Yes, of course.”

 

 

“What about you? Aren’t you going home?”

 

 

“No, I’m staying here. Working on assignments and such, the others will be at a disadvantage when they come back but we won’t be.” The awkward scratch at the back of his neck was probably unnoticed by Hux himself but Greya smelled a rat.

 

 

“So…. That’s your plan for rest week? Study and do assignments? Seriously? None of those stuck up assholes are going to be here!”

 

 

“Obviously I still intend to train unless you want to suspend it as part of your rest week?”

 

 

“Don’t be thick, beating you up in the evening gets me through the day.”

 

 

“Charming. What do you intend to do then? Laze and do nothing?” Hux should have been worried when Greya leaned forward again and clicked her tongue with thoughtful enthusiasm; that was never good. Elbows on the table, the palms of her hands cupped her chin and for a moment, she said nothing; just contemplated. She toyed with the idea batting around in her mind before seizing the decision, making it and finding a way to put it delicately so the Imperial wouldn’t keel over in front of her.

 

 

“So this is going to sound strange….”

 

 

“Greya?”

 

 

“Just…. Hear me out. I heard Lennox and Nemet talking about it a few days ago…. They’re going home together, meeting parents and crap. I think they might be getting engaged anyway….” Bamboozled, Hux just nodded along, waiting for her to get to the point. “I was thinking about the virginity thing.” If he wasn’t baffled before, he certainly was now. Was she implying what he thought she was implying? “And well…. We get on well, we trust each other. It’s not a big deal really, is it? It doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s just a bit of messing around. So…. What d’you think?” The proposition was met with a confused silence. He tried to gather his dumbfounded thoughts and it must have shown on his face.

 

 

“Umm...” Unsure how to voice a response, he just kind of shifted uncomfortably; not that the suggestion made him uncomfortable, quite the opposite. Maybe he wanted to be sure he was taking her up correctly? He would look foolish if he accepted when she meant something differently entirely and his emotions would be open to scrutiny. “Alright, let me try and….. fathom this….” He tried to process it and to be fair, Greya was patient. “You want to do _that…._ With me?”

 

 

“No, I’m talking about Piet but I’m waiting for his arm to get better. I just wanted to make sure you were okay with it.” She waited a beat while he tried to let it sink but she didn’t allow it. “Gods, Hux, I’m joking. Of course I mean you. I wouldn’t want Piet anywhere near me. Or any of them for that matter.” Greya found the lack of response to be a concern. To her, it seemed the idea didn’t appeal to him for whatever reason so she conceded with a shrug. “Look, this obviously doesn’t sit right with you so don’t worry about it; forget I said anything. I get if you’re waiting for marriage or whatever. Your lot do that, don’t they?”

 

 

“I didn’t say no.” Hux informed her meekly, half convinced he should have kept his mouth shut but this opportunity might never present itself again. If he didn’t, she might continue to have no inkling of the foreign feelings that poked at him when he was with her or even thought about her. “I’m just….. surprised that you’d want to…. you know…. do that…. with _me.”_

“Why wouldn’t I? I told you: I trust you, I like you; what else do you need? Like I said, we don’t have-“

 

 

“No, I want to!” Hux bit back the urge to close his eyes and scold himself for jumping in and answering so quickly before he took the time to compose himself. _Now_ he looked desperate. “I…. I want to. I think we should. We just need to be careful, it’s against protocol…. If we get caught, we could get expelled.”

 

 

“That’s not the only reason we need to be careful.” Greya answered bluntly, feeling the pressure of the food starting to dissipate already. “I don’t think the Commandant would be too impressed with being a grandfather this early in his career. So…. We’re doing this? Are you sure?”

 

 

“We’re doing this.” His confirmation was joined by something of a disbelieving smile. Losing his virginity to his closest friend, wasn’t it an ideal situation? They were already close out of necessity to survive even if the beginning had been rocky and she _trusted_ him. She trusted him to be gentle and careful which he would strive to be. “What do we have to lose?”

 

 

“Well…..”

 

“Rhetorical question, Greya. Don’t answer it.”

 

“Nope, you asked a question-“

 

“Greya! I realize what I said, don’t answer it!”

 

“We have our virginities to lose!” Hux’s burning face sank back down into his arms with a pained groan and he managed to resist the urge to bang his head off the table. In truth though, how could he not find this behaviour endearing? How could he not be infatuated with the splash of colour that the academy badly needed? The Vagabond, the Brute? He was guilty of both those charges; unfamiliar as those feelings were, he knew what they meant. “So, we’re gonna need a couple of things.” The redhead pried himself loose from his own grasp and looked up. Greya checked her surroundings subtly, dropping her voice as people still milled around with trays.  “Condoms, lube…. The basics, the essentials. Know what I’m saying? Any ideas?”

 

 

“I can get them.” Suddenly more upbeat, Hux sat up properly and took in the striking face he was about to become more intimate with; arguably as intimate as anyone could be. “Leave it to me, I know where to go.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The rest of the cadets were leaving the academy directly after classes on Zhellday since Benduday was a scheduled recuperation day at the end of the week anyway, effectively a one-day weekend before rest week. Like any adolescent male, Hux had often indulged in holovids of a certain _genre._ He watched one alone in his room that evening after his conversation with Greya. Or at least he tried to. When he watched the flailing and the moaning and careless slap of skin on skin, none of it seemed real. He found himself distracted, uninterested. He’d never had this problem before, why now? Disgruntled, he turned off the holopad and crawled into bed, tossing his briefs over the side from under the covers. Automatically, his mind drifted to her and driven by anticipation, his hand started to wander. Only then did it feel more natural.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The corridors were more or less abandoned; void of students though the occasional officer would pass through like a stray ant. However, there was only one corridor of particular interest to two certain cadets and that was Block L in the Eastern quadrant. Much to their relief, it was deserted. The lanky redhead left his room and looked both up and down as if expecting traffic; thankfully, he saw nothing. It was simply a case of crossing the hall and passing along empty rooms until he found the correct one. She was already waiting though tried to busy herself to keep her nerves at bay. He allowed himself in with the code she’d given him.

 

 

“It’s strange to see you with your hair down.” He offered mildly, the beginning of an amicable smile pulling at the corners of his lips when she appeared at the door of the refresher.

 

 

“I had my hair down when we met. You told me to buy hair ties, remember?” The darker of the two reminisced with a similar if somewhat nervous grin. The chocolate brown waves coated her shoulders and her back, contrasting beautifully against the white linen tunic that cut off halfway down her thighs – the closest thing to lingerie or anything alluring that she owned.

 

 

“I do remember. It feels like years ago.” The promised items were set down in an unassuming paper bag. It had been a task of distraction, born of nervousness; now he had to face the real challenge. With his lips folded into each other anxiously, he let his eyes wander and she didn’t seem to object; if anything, she inched a little closer. Bare feet padded almost reverently on a cold, stannic floor; the one she winced against in the morning but had adjusted to now. “So…. What do we do?”

 

 

“Well….” Greya was just as clueless, just as nervous and just as timid; it made him feel better in a way. “Maybe you should kiss me? Start small? You’re taller, you’re gonna have to bend down.” So he did. It didn’t begin well. On the first attempt; his nose collided with hers, causing her jerk back with a small grunt of disorientation.

 

“Sorry….”

“It’s okay…. We’ll just…. Tilt your head to the side and….”

“Like this?”

“Yeah, like that. You go right, I’ll go left.”

“Your right or my right?”

“Your right. You know what, just stay like that and I’ll come to you.” Eventually, the first hurdle was won. It didn’t last long; it was little more than a lasting peck to the lips; nothing too deep lest they drown. Then another. And another. And another until they started to mould into each other. “You _can_ touch me. I don’t bite…. Yet.” Pacing his breathing from the obvious excitement (completely different from any holovid he’d watched); a pale, bony hand lifted with half conviction and started to stroke ever so attentively up and down her back. Lost in another kiss, she returned the favour by laying a spurring palm on his chest; both were mutual gestures of support, understanding and care.

 

 

“Umm....” He sheepishly pulled back but not far with a glance downwards at the familiar discomfort growing below; he was wary of her feeling it just yet. “Should we perhaps…. Maybe…. Uhh…..” He tried to ask about foreplay. Should they? Shouldn’t they? “Do you just…. Want to jump in? What I mean is…. You said start small….” By some divine intervention, he didn’t have to struggle any further.

 

 

“I think we should wait a while before we start getting fancy.” Greya replied softly, tucking a dark strand behind her ear with her eyes lowered shyly. It was welcome news; he didn’t have the wick for anything else. “Just…. Do what we came here to do for now.”

 

 

“So this is not a once off?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, let’s see how this goes.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The kissing became more intense, the touching got bolder and several layers between them had been shed though Greya had significantly less to shed than Hux. She’d never forget how he’d stared at her when the tunic pooled at her feet, how she felt embarrassed undressed and unnerved. She’d made a quick stoop to retrieve the garment, ready to abandon the venture only to have it snatched from her hands, tossed away and be kissed again. She’d never felt more appreciated and beautiful than the worshipping kisses to her shoulders, forehead and chest. Even more so with the warm ghosting of his hands over her thighs, hips and buttocks; anywhere Lennox and Bast giggled and sneered at.

 

 

They seemed to progress of their own accord with little instruction and deliberation; as if moving purely by instinct. Greya’s back met the bed while a portion of Hux’s bodyweight settled above her, supported mostly by his knees on either side of her waist. His upper half pinned her when those pale pink lips pressed genial pecks to her neck and jawline, eyes closed in awe of where he was and what he was doing.

 

 

 _“Hux….”_ The shallow breath of wanting he’d never really heard before without a screen or a speaker and certainly not uttering his name made him stop. Hesitantly he pried his eyes open and simply by looking at her, he knew. While the redhead lifted the box from the bag and fought with a foil wrapper with trembling hands; Greya slipped to the refreshed and returned with a towel which she lay on the bed. Today was simply about learning and their first lesson was to get prepared _then_ get aroused. Both were confident they would slip back into it easily enough though.

 

 

“What are you doing with that?” The male glanced behind him, pausing his non-verbal argument with the condom wrapper to address his curiosity. She lay back down on it, taking care to position her hips and lower quarters on said towel. Before she answered, Greya seized the wrapper from between his clammy fingers and tore it with her teeth before handing back the defeated foil square.

 

 

“It’s to catch the blood.” She didn’t sound fazed or even frightened; like it was _normal._ Hux, however, was not so comfortable with the revelation.

“Blood, what blood?”

“When it happens, I’m going to bleed and I don’t really want to do it onto my sheets.”

“But…. Blood sounds a bit extreme, are you sure you want to do this?”

“It’s going to happen eventually, might as well be with you. At least I know if I tell you to stop because it hurts, you will.” Glancing down to the rubber ring he now held in his open hand, it became real; they were about to do this.

“I should have looked this up.” He murmured with a small sigh, his spare hand hopelessly cupping the side of his face in utter befuddlement. “I’m never this unprepared.”

 

 “Don’t worry about it.” Greya soothed, leaning over his shoulder from where he sat on the edge of the bed and took the unstretched condom from his palm. “This isn’t your comfort zone. It’s not mine either but we’ll get through it. Come here.”

 

 

In her own mind, Greya noticed his size but said nothing. His breath hitched at the raw touch when she held him and the odd tingle of the rubber as it encased him made him writhe but not necessarily in a bad way. Before he could remark upon the newness of this adventure, Hux’s face was held and his lips reclaimed once again. The dark haired female started to sink back into her lying position and pulled him with her without separating. Legs open and knees bent, he settled between them and that assuring embrace continued.

 

 

 _“Are you ready?”_ His voice had dropped with being so near. Both feeding off the anticipation and apprehension of the other, it was something of a comfort to know neither of them was alone. Greya’s nod was slow but sure and Hux tried to remember what he’d seen but found it more and more difficult to apply holovids to this endeavour. Feeling his way in the (metaphoric) dark (it was hard enough to be a virgin in the light, let alone the dark); the redhead ever so carefully lined himself with the glistening entrance and slowly started to prod his way in. No one said or guaranteed it would be perfect, especially with little guidance. He did his best to keep his movements gentle and still only the tip had been consumed so the feeling was minimal for both. He started to edge in little by little until he went too far too quickly and was met with resistance from below.

 

 

“OW!! OW OW OW!! OUT! OUT!”

“Sorry! Gods, I’m sorry, are you alright?!” Of course, he withdrew the second she commanded it; even if it had been a partial jump due to fright.

“I’m okay…. I think I’m okay….” She had lifted her head off the pillow to look downwards while he sat back on his heels, fraught with guilt and worry. “Did you bring lube? We might need lube.” Off the bed in an instant with his covered erection dancing along in front of him, he quickly located the paper bag and the subtle bottle of gel inside.

 

 

She’d watched him slick himself and already, despite the disastrous beginning, she knew she’d made the right choice in partner. Greya stiffened but for a different reason from her prior discomfort and this time, he stopped immediately having taken it upon himself to monitor her face for unease.

 

“Do you need me to pull out again?”

“No, it’s just cold this time.” She informed with a sweet attempt at a smile. “It’s much better, thank you. What about you? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m just not used to being so restricted; it’s a strange sensation.”

“Just push in. It’ll be like ripping off a plaster.” The little shadow of dubiousness reflected the concern but if she felt she might cope better that way, he was willing to try it so he did as he was bid. Another pained gasp though not as harsh as before met his ears when he buried himself to the hilt. Before he could withdraw, she stopped him again with an agonized wiggle.

 

 

“Don’t move. Just…. Stay there like that for a second.” Strained, Greya panted lightly and draped a leg over his waist. Not only did she want to give herself time to adjust to the size inside her, Hux was enjoying the feeling of envelopment that he never got from his own hand. True, he donned a strange barrier he never had before but she was just so _tight_. It almost made him squirm at the prospect of continuing. But he would wait. For a minute or so, he did just that until…. “Okay.… Nice and easy.”

 

 

The thrusts were slow, gentle and amiable to keep his friend pain free but that didn’t take away from the experience in the slightest. Their lips met umpteen times with a new passion that wasn’t there when they began and they clung to each other in a way they never had before. Panting heavily in unison, the couple melted into one and other with their hips moving in time to ease the burden of providing the pleasure they both enjoyed when they met in the middle. Stiffness met wetness and every time it did, the whimpers and the groans reminded him that _this_ was natural; not the holos and whatever foul, staged things they did. _This_ was real. He was closer to her, emotionally as well as physically; his admiration only climbed and while they had agreed that this would ‘mean nothing’, it appeared that consensus had been premature. Whether she felt the same or not, only time would tell. Both Greya and Hux were new and inexperienced so their first time didn’t last all that long.

 

 

 _“Greya.”_ The laboured breath indicated he was close and while his thrusts still weren’t particularly strenuous, they were enough. Eyes shut and chest heaving, the redhead couldn’t wait for an answer. The lack of control with immaturity saw him come first; spilling into the condom before drawing gasping breaths though his hips still moved to give her the opportunity to finish. She went not long after him, whining uncontrollably with her forehead buried in his shoulder. Together; they wound down and hesitantly, Hux removed himself and lowered his sweating body down onto the bed beside her. Before they settled, Greya swept the towel out from underneath her and examined the crimson patch standing out brilliantly against the white. That was that gone. He’d seemingly forgotten about it but Hux watched the darker hand curiously reaching below his waist and a second later, the thin tunnel of rubber landed on the floor with the towel.

 

 

They lay there quietly for a while, just sort of gazing at each other. Gloriously fulfilled, maybe they had changed their minds on the noncommittal nature of the arrangement. Smiles pulled at the corners of cheeks, prompting them to shuffle closer and closer until arms and legs didn’t have any beginning or any end. With his forehead pressed against hers and their stare unending; it was a little bit strange but in by no means a bad way, when they both began to laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really remember my first time. It wasn't a long time ago but I was quite drunk and it wasn't with the best person to do something like that with. So many things went wrong. That aside, I hope I did this justice. <3


	4. Rest Week: Day 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Assignments? Study? Unless the assignment is pleasure and the study is of each other, Hux and Greya are staying in bed for rest week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to thank my writing partner for his support on this chapter. Buddy, you’re the best Staffordshire Bull Terrier in the WHOLE GALAXY!! Love you, my little marshmallow thief, always with a wag and a smile. Xxx

 

Hux had always been a clear thinker. He felt it contributed to his success in anything he turned his hand to, mostly his studies and his scholarly duties. Of course, he chose not to include combat classes in that but he put that down to being a physical failing rather than an intellectual one. Until he met Greya, that is. His ability to focus on an assignment or a book or a mental challenge had distracted and shielded him from his dire home life, his reasoning for staying in the Academy for rest week; a decision he appreciated now more than ever.

 

Now though, Hux couldn’t focus. His mind was so wonderfully blank and in blissful unawares of anything around him; a state that once would have frustrated and irritated him. However, while nothingness seemed to ebb away at him, he was strangely grounded by being able to feel one thing and one thing only: Her. Even the supporting seat of the mattress underneath him and the headboard behind his back escaped his notice. Her breath on the side of his face, her hair tickling his shoulder, the occasional press of her lips to his temple, the graze of her breast on his arm and of course; the slow and gentle movements of her hand in his lap. They had agreed on waiting to see how the initial activity would go before they ventured further with anything ‘fancy’ but with the success in losing their virginities to each other, it made sense for extra steps to be taken. And they decided to take them as early as the next afternoon after a shower and breakfast.

 

 _“Greya….”_ The soft groan didn’t mean anything in particular, merely confirmation that she was still there beyond his pool of pleasure.

 

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

 _“We still have assignments to do….”_ The delightful squeeze of her fist around him elicited a low moan and a slight rising of his hips to follow her strokes, as if her hand would leave him.

 

“You’re not thinking of assignments.”

 

_“No but…. We should…..”_

 

“Stop talking or I’ll stop what I’m doing.”

 _“Fine….”_ It was different to the night previous; the protective rubber layer may have been necessary then but it would have hindered the intimate, naked strokes of skin on skin they currently found themselves enjoying. He didn’t count each careful and respectful pass of her hand over him nor did he ask which one would be the last but her voice roused him once again after several minutes of uninterrupted contentment.

 

“Hux?”

 

“Mmm…?”

 

“I kinda wanna…. Do the other thing.” One bluey green eye opened listlessly to observe his companion (she didn’t seem to just be his friend anymore); she did seem determined and expectant and who was he to stop a female with such traits?

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah, I wanna try it.”

 

“Very well, I won’t stop you.”

 

“I know you won’t.” The playfully unimpressed murmur was met with a quiet chortle and Hux’s shaft was released without protest in favour of something different. Greya shuffled from her warm, slightly damp spot at his side down the bed and in between his open, bent legs.

 

“Are you comf- **ARGH!”**

“I barely touched you.” She chided teasingly, watching with a proud smirk pulling at the corner of her lip while she watched her lover recover with his head thrown back and his eyes closed. It was true, all she had done was lick his tip.

 

“I’m a tad sensitive at the moment, I didn’t think it would be that…. intense.”

 

“We gotta build up your resistance then. D’you need a minute?” She asked as her cheek rested against the balmy flesh of the inside of his thigh.

 

“Says she who spasmed when I touched her clit last night. Just a few seconds, let it calm down.”

 

“Gods, I had no idea Imperials could be so _bitchy!”_

 

“That’s what you get for sleeping with one.”

 

“Oh we’re _sleeping together_ now?”

 

“That’s what all the variables add up to.”

 

“I love it when you talk dirty. I hope you’re going to reciprocate all this.”

 

“Not a chance, you offered.”

 

“Oi!”

 

“Calm yourself, Greya, I’m joking. Of course I will. Try now.”  Greya obeyed for her own curiosity and dipped her head again; his reaction was a lot less dramatic but in the best possible way. The moist heat of her mouth wrapped around him to the almost instant increase of breathing from the redhead above her. Pleased with the non-verbal feedback, she paused a while adjust to the size but the lack of movement, spurred concern. _“Are you…. Alright?”_ The pant was greeted by the heightening of dark brown eyes and a modest hum that also made him struggle to contain himself. A minute or so was all Greya needed to become accustomed to the fleshy rod in her mouth and ever so slowly, she started to move over it.

 

Hux had squirmed incessantly under Greya’s hand; the feeling of someone else’s grip other than his own had been an incredible breakthrough but now…. They had upgraded that experience in a way that he could not mimic with his own hand and it was _magnificent._ The shallowness of the act itself aside, there was no one he would rather be in such a vulnerable and trusting position with. She was beautiful, she was intelligent, she was strong and she liked him for _him;_ even if the activities of the night previous were originally supposed to be meaningless in nature, there appeared to be a change in plan. The way they had looked at each other, held each other, kissed each other and woken up placidly together was enough to suggest it. Hux began to thread his fingers ever so gently though Greya’s chocolate locks, his other hand resting amicably on her cheek to stroke it which earned him a melting look of affection.

 

The redhead’s hips had started to lift to help Greya but not enough to choke her; he knew she would have no qualms of informing him if she became uncomfortable. The sensation burned into him in the most glorious way; not just the physicality of it, but the way it made him feel. Greya’s initial proposal had almost seemed like a cruel joke; dangling herself in front of a teenage boy (who thought her stunningly unique and wouldn’t be swayed on the matter) only to rip herself away and leave his raw feelings exposed. All the while, he would be behaving like a kicked dog while still trying to be her friend; for the training if nothing else. Thankfully, Greya’s proposition was legitimate and there they were.

 

In the days leading up to their experimentation; apprehension and excitement had collided brilliantly, leaving him smiling and dizzy whenever he saw or thought of her. Even more so now when he had woken with butterflies as he blissfully recalled the night before and almost exploded when she cuddled in against his naked form. The need for touch tugged at Hux again and he saw absolutely no reason to refuse it. After all, would it hurt her to know that he liked and appreciated what she was willingly doing for him? Definitely not. A thin, pale hand ghosted along the back of Greya’s shoulders while the other remained in her hair. Up and down her arms were caressed and the back of her neck received it too; all of which the female took as intended.

 

Also taking those actions as signals of encouragement, Greya’s pace and speed (which had been perfect for him) increased to the soft moan and extra lifting of his hips. Between the tepid wet of her mouth, her pace and the way those great brown eyes would heighten to his with every bob of her head, Hux figured he couldn’t hold out much longer. After all, it was still very much a time of firsts for them, it only made sense to savour the sensations while they were still new. Virginities aside, the pair had much maturing and experience ahead of them; their stamina would have to build.

 

 _“Greya.”_ Her name was uttered reverently again for the umpteenth time since the night before and suddenly, he had become somewhat more rigid; Hux was close. _“Greya. I’m going to….”_ The only response he got was more purposeful movement over his shaft; faster with a slight grazing of her teeth to drive him over the edge. His hips became restless; moving from side to side, as if attempting to throw her off and spare her from a possibly unpleasant experience but if Greya was going to do something, she was going to do it without taking shortcuts, even if it was just this once. _“Greyaaaagh…..!”_ It was done before he could try again and despite the experimental mouthful of cum, she kept going but slowed to give him clearance to come down from his high.

 

 _“What did you do that for?”_ He whispered, incapable of bringing his voice any higher as he stared down at her in wonderment. Keeping the bed clean was in neither of their minds, the sheets were already soiled. Greya wanted to try it and Hux would gladly have come on himself if it meant sparing her something she might not have been ready for. Her answer was an amused giggle through the sweet saltiness though she had nothing else to compare it to. It wasn’t so bad, anything she’d read had given mixed reviews on the taste but she gathered it tended to be based on the male’s diet. And Hux’s was pristine. She ensured he saw her swallow it, eyes locked on his and perhaps that changed his mind. It was quite an erotic thing if he was truthful. With the mouthful gone, Greya dipped her head again to clean him off; gently, since the possibility of him being oversensitive again was real.

 

“Wanted to try it.” Her shrug echoed indifference but the confident (and pleased) smirk blared pride and enjoyment; maybe it wouldn’t be a once off after all. His arms widened to accommodate her as she crawled back to his chest where her head was laid and her face kissed. “Why, didn’t you like it?”

 

_“I did…. I just wasn’t sure if you’d be comfortable.”_

“I was fine. I quite liked it actually, I wouldn’t have done it if I wasn’t sure.” Greya adjusted herself into a position that allowed her to prop herself up on the pillows but remaining as close to her lover as possible. “And if I had to taste it, I think it’s only fair you do too.” He had no intention of objecting but if he had, he would have been given time to do so as Greya had already moved in for one of the kisses they had perfected the night before.

 

“It’s….” The taste of himself had been a lot milder than he expected. Perhaps that had been one of the things that concerned him when Greya wouldn’t move from his lap. “I don’t even know how to describe it.”

 

“I get salt and a little bit sweet? We’re gonna have to cut down on your sodium intake, mister.”

 

“But I like salt….”

 

“Nah, apparently it’s meant to taste like that; you’re fine. Though I would recommend not pickling your soup every time either.”

 

“That’s hardly fair. And speaking of fair…. Lie down.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 _“Gods….! Dear Gods….!”_ Hux couldn’t decide whether he was impressed with himself or amused though it was completely possible to be both. As he’d promised, the favour being reciprocated was his top priority and with the way Greya lay sprawled on the bed with her legs open; perhaps she wasn’t the only one relishing in this new exploit. How could he not congratulate himself on the way she writhed under his tongue or involuntarily grinded her hips against his hand where two of his fingers were buried to the hilt? The low rumbling of an exhilarated chuckle against her clit provoked yet another ecstatic sob, acting as even more incentive to keep going. He may have been new to it but he appeared to be gifted with his oral abilities; they would serve him well as a motivational orator in the future.

 

He could understand now why Greya didn’t stop when she had been the one doing the pleasuring. Every moan, every whimper, sigh and tortured movement stirred an addiction he didn’t know he had. It may have been effort to lift his eyes to watch her face between her breasts but Empire, he didn’t care; it was worth it. More than likely (and he could attest to this soon), she felt a great deal of fulfilment at bringing her lover to climax by purely her own efforts; to witness the continued crumbling over and over never got tiring. Somehow though, he knew it wouldn’t have been the same if she had been just anyone. It was common practice for young men of his pedigree (usually dedicated to their studies and the Imperial Empire rather than a mate) choosing to rid themselves of the virginal stigma with a prostitute. Had he not been so taken up with his current task, he would have felt sorry for them. That sort of business-like sterility had no place in the bedroom but it was their loss, he hadn’t suffered that fate. He had something _far_ better.

 

It seemed to be the norm for hands to be entangled in hair (for both male and female) while the mouth did its mind-numbing work, the light tugging was possibly the best compliment she could give him without speaking. His fingers still thrusted to meet the wet, his tongue still brushed between her folds to taste her and his lips still sucked at the tiny but swollen pleasure organ that made her hips buck every time. His free arm was taken up with kind, genial strokes up and down her leg and though his busy hand was starting to cramp, he wouldn’t submit to it until Greya did. His own arousal had reignited, despite being spent from Greya a little while previous; now it stood again, hopeful of being sated.

 

“You’re soaking.” As if the sultry mutter dragged her closer to her inevitable edge, Greya’s thighs tightened around her partner’s head; not enough to hurt him but certainly enough to spur him on. “The bed is soaking, we have to sleep here tonight, Greya.” Another almost pained mewl met the suggestive scolding but he kept going, lowering his head again to try and make the bed even wetter. Strenuous and all as it was; Hux managed to increase the pace and force of his fingers into the brunette, chancing a third as well which followed the other two quite easily. She didn’t last long after that. He’d seen her come before but it had been a combination of both their efforts; now, it was only his and he revelled in it. Panting and failing to contain the high pitched whines of her orgasm, Greya trembled like a leaf while she tried to adjust herself in such a way that she was comfortable on the bed but the white-hot prickling of thrilling joy just made her twist in the sheets.

 

“Are you alright?” Shifting from the damp of her thighs and up between her legs to her chest, Hux made sure his was pressed to hers in an effort to soothe her. Kisses were scattered to random patches on her chest, neck and face which seemed to succeed in easing her to a degree. “I’ve got you, you’re alright.”

 

 _“You watched the videos too, huh?”_ Greya managed as playfully as she could through her heaving breaths, pulling herself in closer to Hux’s alabaster chest where his arms surrounded and encased her. The question went unanswered save for a knowing snicker and another kiss. _“We’ll give it a minute then I want you inside me.”_

 


	5. Summer Program

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The secret relationship of rest week continues, a proposition is made and an even more serious topic is broached.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do let me know what you think! xxx

“But if we take the….” Hux sat at the desk in Greya’s room with his back to the bed but his concentration on the book in front of him was fractured at best. He twisted in his seat again, mouth drying like it had every other time he turned. The raised eyebrows, the _‘come hither’_ stare and the unbearably teasing smirk among the tousled sheets made him question his commitment to the assignment, especially when he knew all her clothes were on the floor and therefore could not be on her. “And…. The…. Umm….” The way she stretched with a longing groan to ‘accidentally’ reveal more flesh darker than his clicked the decision in his head. “To hell with it!” The chair was kicked back without mercy or care, his underwear was stripped and that was the first time Hux could ever remember disregarding an assignment. Wasn’t he human? Would anyone else not have done the same if a beautiful girl lay sprawled in anticipation for them in bed? He certainly wasn’t going to keep her waiting.

 

The sweet giggles as he dived onto the bed mere inches from her were both a persuasion and a reward for abandoning the assignment as he covered her body with his own. Those recently unexperienced lips peppered kisses that suggested he hadn’t seen her in weeks while she squirmed playfully beneath him. The longest time he’d spent away from her was to return to his own room to gather fresh clothes and books; he’d been gone all of ten minutes. Aside from that venture, he hadn’t left her side. The giggles were silenced when the kiss became mutual and hands ghosted in all the right places; with only three days left in rest week, he was more than adept at securing the precaution of the condom now.

 

Pulled backwards into his lap, Greya seated herself before sinking her weight down onto the throbbing, sealed shaft with a quiet whine though she only seemed to be fully comfortable when a pale, spindly arm wound its way around her waist. Hips rising and falling while his helped from beneath, those big brown eyes closed to revel in the sensation that she knew deep down she would never tire of. But what would happen when rest week was over? Would they resume their plutonic friendship and never indulge in this again? Or would they boldly continue their relationship in secret until….. They got caught? Until they graduated? Until they tired of each other? She didn’t think the latter would happen but it was a discussion she would have with him all the same. Woken from her hazy musings by a jolt of electricity in the form of his free hand ambling over her thigh and gently massaging the little pleasure organ between her legs; Greya tilted back her head and rolled it along his collar bone.

 

_“I was gonna suck you off first….”_

_“Later.”_ He assured her while the swirling of his index finger went on, undisturbed; the very action of it alone prompted her to pick up the speed of her hips until the sound of skin slapping off skin became somewhat obscene. Her lover’s face had become buried in her hair, meaning his pleasured groans reverberated in her ear drum. Greya’s arm curved backwards to hook around Hux’s neck; simply another display of companionship that was reciprocated in the form of an ardent lathering of his lips against her face. The passion climbed until the redhead found himself becoming restless from the internal itch. His finger ceased its circling and with a single push, his paramour landed on her side with her thighs gripped from behind and he followed without vacating her. His thrusts continued but Greya’s became hindered by the position though neither of them seemed to mind. He passed the responsibility of his clitoral rings to her which she accepted without hesitation.

 

_“I never want this week to end.”_

_“I know….”_ The agreement was puffed as he re-immersed himself in her hair and his hips consistently thrashing against her buttocks, paired with a heavy groan before he forced out another sequence of words. _“Neither do I.”_

 _“Harder, Hux…. Please…..”_ How could he refuse that darling plea? He had no intention of it and so obeyed with a vigour he probably wouldn’t have been able to source if it weren’t for the spurring whimpers of delirium coming from ahead of him. They slowly moulded as time wore on into delighted squeals and whimpers, alternating as they both crawled closer to their respective peaks. Greya’s orgasm hit her like a brick wall; mouth hanging open, walls contracting around him and an extra shining film of her own cum dripping between her legs and coating the inside of her thighs. He still hadn’t felt the thrill of release. _“Come in my mouth.”_

 

Again, he had no desire to deny her. In one swift movement, he rolled over (subsequently pulling himself out of her), off the bed and as a consequent action, Greya struggled to her knees in just enough time to have her face cupped and forehead kissed. He had already whipped off the condom and tossed it aside to be disposed of properly later; it wouldn’t be long before he joined her in post-orgasm satisfaction. He felt her in an instant; her eagerness was met by a relieved moan and a respectful threading of his thin fingers through those chocolate kinks. He didn’t need to resume his thrusts, her head moved instead; back and forth, back and forth with a reverent hand resting on his hip. That hand was covered by one of his.

 

 _“Greya….”_ Eyes met and just like every other time they did, his stomach fluttered. And it was nothing to do with the physicality of their current activity. He was close and he knew what she wanted. The first time they’d done it, it had partially been an accident, partially not. He had been anxious then but by now, he savoured it and was just as looking forward to it as she was. Greya didn’t need to wait all that long for her request to be fulfilled; only a minute or so after the condom was discarded, Hux became more vocal and that was only one of her indications. Then they both felt it, that rush. His head shot back, eyes clamped shut, teeth clenched tight and his entire body rigid; the release hit the back of her throat but Greya didn’t stop immediately, simply slowed to a stop then swallowed. Her face was cupped again, ever so chivalrous, and kissed once more with the taste of himself scarcely bothering him. _“You’re so beautiful.”_

 

 

* * *

 

 

“So…. I had an idea.”

“Uh-oh.”

“No, no, it’s not that. It’s something else. There’s something I want to ask you.” Tired and spent but curious, Greya tilted her head back enough to look up at her redheaded lover who lay beside her though the height difference was sometimes a hindrance. His arm had curved across her shoulder and down her side to hold her hand and while the sheets were stained and soiled, they still provided warmth and comfort to the young pair.

“So ask me.” Greya retorted as she wiggled around and pushed a benign kiss to his jawline, the only place she could reach and the contact was returned with an affectionate nudge of his nose against her cheek.

“Well, it hasn’t been announced yet but every year, there’s a summer program.” Adjusting herself again to look up with a confused grimace, he had expected a reaction and was already looking down on her.

“Okay? Wanna fill me in?”

“When we’re finished talking.”

“Oh ha ha, very funny. C’mon, I wanna know what the summer program is!”

 

“Right, so every year, the two best cadets are selected based on their academic achievements throughout the year and sent to intern on one of the Empirical flagships.” The hold on her hand remained but with the addition of genial strokes of his thumb spanning from her knuckles to her wrist though his gaze had wondered shyly downwards. “So….. What I want to know is….. Will you do the summer program with me?” For a moment, Greya didn’t answer and the gap in conversation put Hux on edge. Was that a no? Did she want to spend the summer with him, away from everyone else save for people that didn’t actually know them? Or was that an indication that the events of rest week would stay in rest week, never to venture beyond it?

 

“Would we be together?” Before the redhead could get fretful, Greya’s head pivoted slightly in a bid to get the best look at her partner she possibly could; the question didn’t seem to answer his initial one.

“Yes, of course we would. Away from Arkanis, away from the orphanage, my father and everyone else on this Godsforsaken base that hates us for no bloody reason.” Before he could rile himself by thinking of the outside forces that collaborated against them, his whole body seemed to relax by the tranquil pressure of Greya rolling from her side and onto his chest. Brown melted into greeny blue and it was one of those moments when everything became still.

“Then I’m in. We won’t have to try too hard either, we’re the best in our year.” No sooner had the words left Greya’s lips and Hux’s had taken their place instead. Smooth and gentle, the older male released her after a brief embrace but kept her close as always. She stayed on his chest to relish the caress to her cheek; not unlike a cat or a dog would.

“Did I hear you right when you said Lennox and Nemet were engaged?” The question didn’t seem out of place, Greya didn’t even open her eyes nor did his careful brushing cease. After all, if it was one thing they had in common it was how much they hated their classmates; it was only natural they’d express it to each other in the form of gossip.

 

“That’s what I gathered but yeah, your lot get married young, don’t they?”

“Mmm…. I think that’s what Lennox and the other two girls came here for.”

“What?”

“They came to find husbands; they don’t care about serving the Empire. Well, not on the front line anyway. Popping out sons, maybe.”

“Eww, d’you have to be so crude? We’re more than that, y’know.” The stroking stopped when Greya’s eyes opened with a disgruntled curve of her lip.

“Well, it’s true! That’s what’s expected of them and they know it! I can nearly guarantee that if they’re engaged, Lennox won’t be back next year!”

“What about me, is it expected of me?”

“Maybe. It depends on who you marry.” Deciding to steer the conversation away from marital obligations; he tried a different tactic. A tactic that made his face soften at the very thought of it and his companion noticed. “I think they have the right idea though.”

“Oh?” An impish eyebrow arched at the lightening of his features and the comforting arm across her back to keep her on him. “Don’t let them hear you say that or they’ll think we like them. What right idea might that be?”

“Well, think about it.” He began as he sat up slightly and propped himself against the pillows but keeping the smaller female to him, even closer than before with his nose gracing against hers. “What could be better than being married to your best friend?” Greya’s magnificent characteristics bloomed into a charming beam with a quiet titter of laughter that became contagious when Hux pressed his lips lightly against hers. The idea may have been somewhat bizarre for two so young but it seemed it was expected of Hux and as he said; he’d rather be married to his best friend than someone he didn’t know and maybe wouldn’t like.

“That better not be a proposal!” She managed to pry herself away but didn’t go far, just enough to scan his face with the smile immovable while his adoring grasp still existed.

“No, I assure you when that time comes, no effort will be spared.” He promised her loyally with another lasting, devoted peck. And he had every intention of it. Even at just fifteen, his father had already spoken to him about the importance of marriage and procreating with someone suitable and approved though the son couldn’t see why. Why not dedicate himself to his career, even though the journey would be long and he had only started? Why did he have to involve himself with another person that would be a distraction, even if only for a few days a year for a possible conception? That changed, however, when he met Greya and their relationship began. "And what will your father say? He won't be pleased. I'm not your  _type,_ after all."

"You mean the Imperial type? True, you're not approved or even of the right bloodline but you know what? It doesn't matter what he thinks. We'll get married when we can, when we're financially stable enough to do it and then it will be nothing to do with him."

“If you insist.” The coy, flattered grimace was only enhanced by a shy lowering of her lashes that caused a skip in the recovering beating of his heart. “Maybe you’ll get down on one knee when you make General.”

 

“I love the faith you have in me.” He replied with a small, endeared chuckle as he secured her as close as he possibly could; in the way they usually did, when they silently agreed to settle down to sleep. “I won’t be a General for some time and I want to marry you before that.”

 

“Look at you being all forward!” The giggle was just as sweet as when he’d dived on the bed while she settled within his arms and under the covers. “But whatever, I’ll go with it! Just make it good the first time ‘cause I ain’t doing it twice!”

 

“You have my word. Now go to sleep. We’ll enjoy rest week while we can and then…. We work for the summer program. Just to be safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How sweet are they? <3


	6. Fly Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cadets selected for the Summer Program are announced and Greya and Hux's relationship becomes exposed with horrendous consequences. Please see chapter notes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proceed with caution: Upsetting content. This chapter is the one we feared so needless to say, it took ages to write.  
> Don't read if you are sensitive, you have been warned.

 

“Go on! Laugh!”

“Why would I laugh?”

“It’s awful!”

“Is it? I kinda like it.”

“Oh come on! _Armitage!_ Who in their right mind!”

“Ah it’s not that bad.” Greya replied loyally from the depths of her comfort, pulling herself as close to her slightly older lover as she could; her weight on his chest and her leg draped across his waist always induced placidness in the redhead. The last night of rest week was spent like the rest of it: in bed. However, the much needed addition of honesty was the only change and he felt better for it. “It’s got a ring to it. A powerful ring. _General Armitage Hux_. It rolls off the tongue, inspires fear and moulds respect. And it will. I promise, it will.”

“Greya Hux has a nice ring to it too, you know.”

“No more talk about rings! Go to sleep!”

 

* * *

 

 

 _“I can’t look….”_ The petrified breath amused him to such an extent that a smirk began to itch on those pallid lips. With her eyes covered in sheer terror, she didn’t notice the other students walking away in disgust; the majority of the scandal was directed at the outcast and her scarlet haired companion. With a roll of his eyes and nothing to worry about, Armitage swept Greya’s hands from her face to a temporary look of peril before she automatically focused on the area of dread. It took her a moment, maybe two before she realized it; realized everything they’d worked for had been fruitful. Two names at the top of the list, two highlighted identities from very different backgrounds (or were they?) made her stare but it was broken by choke of disbelieving laughter. _Cadet_ _Armitage Hux. Cadet Greya Vardai._ Two names at the top of the list, separated from the rest and they were theirs.

 

 _“We did it.”_ Still numb with elation, Greya barely felt the amicable peck to her cheek in the empty corridor. Enveloped in each other’s arms, Hux swayed her gently from side to side as he felt the returned delighted squeeze from his….. girlfriend? Nose nuzzled into his partner’s hair, he was careful to keep his voice low though it crackled with excitement. _“We’re going to be together.”_ And what else could they ask for? Wasn’t it all they wanted? Wasn’t it all they had focused on since rest week ended some months ago and worked towards together?

 

 

* * *

 

 

What’s success without celebration? Greya and Armitage were about to find out. Falling into an empty classroom while joined at the face, Greya’s bottom met the cold surface of a familiar desk; one they had sat at together many times. Overly aware of the silver square grating against his leg from his pocket, Armitage nudged his way closer to ensure her comfort though she masked the twinge in her face well when the cold hit her rear. Arousal and apprehension heightened as lips and tongues continued to wrestle and all the while aware they were not in the private safety of their quarters but rather out in the open where the danger of getting caught was ever present. But it was so _exciting._

He pulled away for a bare moment, just to check on her; just to gaze at her and stroke her cheek as he had a habit of doing when they were close and intimate. Sitting up straight, Greya was receptive as her hands wandered over her male companion unchecked; a bold signal of welcome and consent. Lips claimed again, Armitage shimmied his way in between her legs which hooked around his waist as if daring him to retreat. Of course, he had no such intention. Instead, the embrace became all the more demanding and insistent on both sides; pulling the couple closer and closer. Until…..

 

 _“Oh!”_ An electric eel wove between them and pumped a jolting five hundred volts to each, driving them apart to stare at the door; Greya attempting to make herself more presentable out of complete reflex. Lennox. Menacingly gleeful eyes swiped between the two red-faced and panting students who had disentangled themselves in complete surprise; her features melted from genuine shock to utter greed. Separately and simultaneously, they scolded themselves. How had they not heard her coming? How had they allowed themselves to become so enveloped in each other out in the open that they became completely oblivious to one of the biggest threats? _“I’m sorry, the door was open. I just thought that it was empty….”_ Like the cat that got the cream, that sick satisfaction put the cornered couple on edge, that vile smirk made them sick to their stomachs; they had been caught. _“I’ll just uhh…. I’ll be on my way then.”_ As quickly as she arrived, Lennox was gone but the sense of unease she brought with her lingered.

 

“I think we should go….” Greya murmured, noticing that Hux had not re-approached her; instead he opted to watch the door with utter distress. “I don’t trust her, I think we should go….”

 

“I think you’re right.” He replied, breaking his trance on the door and crossing the room to help her off the desk. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I’ll bring you back to your room.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

They never went anywhere together as an open couple so they never really held hands outside the comfortable privacy of Greya's bedroom. What was supposed to be a gesture of affection and care had now become tainted as one of worried support for each other as they hurried through the corridors at an urgent pace. A pair of intertwined hearts hammered in separate chests and they seemed to take it in turns to glance behind them while both sets of ears strained for dogging footsteps. They were almost in the clear, almost to their corridor when the ominous footsteps started to approach; not one set or two but a number neither could really count. Even when Greya glanced back and felt her heart plunge into her stomach and her stomach into her bowel to see the shadows unfold, she couldn’t count them with her frenzied mind. Armitage felt the same terror when he looked ahead and more emerged from around the corner. The minimal grasp on each other tightened as Greya swung around and the couple’s backs seemed to stick together as several cadets (some familiar, some not) began to approach from both ends of the corridor; closing in at an alarming rate.

 

“Not going to share, Hux?” Nemet materialized from the back of the small group facing the redhead with the same look of terrible satisfaction that Lennox had when she discovered them in the classroom; no doubt she was to blame for the current trapping. “You know you could catch something from her, don’t you?” Armitage didn’t answer; his grip on Greya’s hand only strengthened. The brown eyed Corellian behind him faced down the group ahead of her with uncharacteristic fear but with an unconvincing attempt to hold her nerve. Nemet broke from the crowd and paced around the pair, slow and casual just to unnerve them further and it worked. “Let go of her. Now.”

 

“No.” Hux barely found his voice; he was determined not to let it waver and drew himself to his full height (which even in the midst of puberty was not all too intimidating). While the intentions of the groups may have been unclear, it was certain they were not good. “I won’t. You can’t make me.”

 

“So you’re perfectly happy to let this _creature_ waltz into our glorious Academy and decimate everything we’re trying to build?” The saunter took the shape of a circle; constantly ringing around the two in a display of jeering dominance that seemed to resound through the separate groups. “An outsider; a rough, breedless urchin? Seems you’re happy enough to share your bed with her as well.” A quiet, ominous snicker rippled through the solid walls of bodies at the end of each corridor and the smirk echoed Lennox’s from the classroom; a sickening one of disgusting pleasure. “She’s not one of us. She doesn’t have the bloodline or the purity to **ever** be one of us or serve the Empire so let her go and we won’t hurt you.”

 

“So you intend to hurt her?!” Hux’s challenge was snarled as Nemet meandered closer and closer to the flame-headed male; his body language provocative. Greya managed to keep quiet though Armitage assumed that to be down to pure fear rather than wisdom as both connected hands started to numb from the constriction of each other.

 

“I’m just trying to keep the standard from slipping around here; you understand that, surely?”

 

“That’s not your place, Nemet! And hurting her won’t do that! You will only be proving what the rest of the galaxy think! What the Rebels and the Republic want them to think!”

 

“You know what? I’m finished talking to a traitor. **Grab her!** ” The barked order swiftly followed the calm unperturbedness and the others reacted as quickly as his tone had changed.

 

 ** _“WHAT’RE YOU DOING?!”_** Hux’s howl of panic masked Greya’s whimper of utter terror as both groups descended in perfect unison and swarmed them; prying them apart and wrestling them several feet from each other. It happened almost in slow motion with the entire thing on mute; shock kicking in and disbelief riddling both victims but one would be significantly more scarred then the other. Armitage’s pale fingers curled, looking for Greya’s as if each furl and unfurl would reset the separation and she would reappear back at his side but to no avail. Instead, he saw her being dragged down the corridor on her back; legs kicking and arms flailing in a desperate attempt to free herself and perhaps use what kept her at the top of combat classes. Only then did Hux register the pulling; the pulling of his uniform and his entire person to a hopeless distance when Nemet pounced.

 

“ _Greya….”_ Despite the struggle and the roared warnings to keep away; Armitage was powerless. Amidst the terrified stupefaction; he almost didn’t hear the shredding of fabric, the goading mockery and the blood-chilling shrieks of begging, trepidation and agony ricocheting off every wall. In revolting helplessness, he couldn’t help but stare, reviled, as Greya’s legs were wrenched apart and Nemet went first. The screaming intensified and no one seemed interested in stopping her; if fact, they only seemed to encourage the brute pinning her to the cold, stannic floor and the movements of his pelvis. Despite the effort not to but prompted by the shameless grunts of effort and pleasure from Nemet, Hux did throw up though it didn’t appear to affect the grip his classmates continued to maintain.

 

 _“Grey…. Greya….”_ When it appeared to be over and Nemet delivered the final spilling thrust; Greya’s bawls melted into weak sobs of defeat and violation. But when Nemet hauled himself away, Veers promptly took his place and the horror erupted again and again when he finished and Motti quickly followed suit. After that, Hux lost count. His brain seemed to switch off as if to protect him from further trauma but he could still hear her and the urge to vomit again rose though he wasn’t graced with a second time. Even as he became limp, his captivity continued and the insistent hold meant he couldn’t look anywhere but the panting, broken mass on the floor his partner had become. Having cried, screamed and tired herself out in a fruitless bid to escape, Greya simply lay there as if her brains had turned to mush.

 

It took Hux a moment to realize that the only thing restraining him was fear. All bounds had loosened and his captors had retreated back until they vanished into various corners of the Academy, leaving him free but traumatized. One shaking foot stepped in front of the other but there was no one there to see him stumble. His tunnel-vision focused on Greya; the used, boneless mess on the floor a few metres ahead of him had also been abandoned but the desperate and increasingly frenzied attempts to get to her had drowned out their exit. Lip trembling and hands shaking, the redhead dropped to his knees when he finally reached his companion though unsure of what to do; the extent of their situation hadn’t quite registered yet.

 

 _“Arm….”_ The feeble sniffle told him to pick up her hand and squeeze it, any sort of comfort would do. The soft whines of continued pain and frailty took a temporary back seat as Hux looked down and felt the bile rise again at the snail-trail of blood a few inches long where she had been pushed along the floor when turns were being taken. _“Arm, we gotta…. We have to….”_

_“It’s okay….”_ He lied gently with shock still fresh in his system while he tried to assess a way of picking her up without hurting her even more. _“I’ve got you…. We’re going to…. Get to the med bay. Do you…. D’you think you can walk?”_ A long shot but he would certainly take it.

 

_“N…. No…. I can’t….”_

_“Okay. I need you to trust me. I’m going to lift you but it’ll hurt and I don’t want to leave you here while I get help so….. just….. bear with me.”_

_“O….Okay….Just…. Make it quick.”_ He put it down to adrenaline when he lifted Greya from across her back and under her knees. The quiet hiss of torment plucked at him while guilt sang in his ear though he knew, deep down, there was nothing he could have done to prevent it. It seemed like an age before they reached the med bay and with splintering arms, Hux laid a barely conscious Greya on the nearest available bed before taking a complete disregard for the last hour and bellowing into the dark ward:

 

**“HELP US!!”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I'm sorry.


	7. Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armitage is hauled before his father before an inevitable visit is made to Greya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I can’t decide who I see as Hux’s father more. Domhnall’s real dad, Brendan Gleeson (Mad Eye Moody in Harry Potter)? Or Charles Dance (Tywin Lannister in Game of Thrones)? Thoughts? Or suggestions? :P

 

The office was quiet and sterile but the cadet didn’t notice. He could have been standing in the middle of a busy street and his stupor would have been the same whether he was there or in the medbay. He couldn’t sit, despite the chairs tempting him; his feet wouldn’t allow anything other than worried pacing. Five minutes then ten passed before the distant whirring of a door stirred Armitage from his grief-struck musings only to turn and mark the Commandant.

 

 **“Sit.”** The gruff order went unheeded as the elder redhead stalked around the desk to ease his feet with his own chair. It took a mere flaring of nostrils for the son to obey and so he ambled to the nearest chair on still shaking legs in the full heat of his father’s disapproving scowl. **“Tell me what happened.”** Armitage hesitated, much to his father’s disdain though he wasn’t sure _if_ he could even articulate it; to do so acknowledged that it had actually happened. To concede that it had happened meant that Greya was lying in a medbay bed, traumatized to within an inch of her life; an admission he’d rather not make to anyone, let alone himself. Of course he didn’t understand, how could he? How could this brutal human being understand his son’s mental state after such a horrific incident if he had no humanity himself? If he had never experienced what Armitage had experienced?

 

 **“I cannot do anything if you don’t tell me what happened.”** Biting on what was left of his tolerance, Brendol Hux pushed on but his tone bristled; the cadet noticed but found himself not caring, as if his father _really_ wanted to help, which was highly unlikely. Armitage’s answer was not immediate. The nervous smacking and wetting of lips suggested whatever it was had (and continued to) caused him a great deal of stress. Hux Snr’s patience may have been self-taught but with the standard of training he had become used to in his officers and trainees, he didn’t have to exercise it very often. Now though, his son was beginning to stretch it. As if deliberating not only his answer but if he should give it or not, the student’s despondence became even more grating as he began to chew the skin at the side of his lip, much to the older redhead’s disgust.

 

 _“They ambushed us.”_ The suffering was plain in the short, quiet breath though the Commandant barely heard it. Momentarily confused, he watched as a blood-caked hand passed through Armitage’s more vibrant strands but leaving no imprint of crimson; the stony silence was not inviting but it was meant as a push to continue. _“They restrained me…. They…. They held her down… Did aw-awful things to her….”_

**“Who did?”** The sympathy was non-existent as his only child crumbled before him. To treat him equally in public was one thing but surely there should have been some sort of sentimentality attached to him or paternal love or pride to relax that fairness so behind closed doors? Apparently not. Nor, incidentally, was there an ounce of compassion for the poor girl in the medbay at that very moment. The cadet continued to unravel and was therefore proving useless; pressing on his father’s nerve even more which certainly helped neither party. **“Who did?!”**

_“I…. I don’t know.”_ Armitage’s confession came in a devastated wisp that barely fought through trembling lips. _“I couldn’t see who restrained me…. I didn’t recognize some of them….”_ Did he really dare to name names? Nemet, Veers, Motti…. They wouldn’t have known if it wasn’t for Lennox, he wanted to punish her too…. After that, he couldn’t remember; as if his brain had shut itself down to protect him, he found himself feeling in the dark for names that just weren’t there. He hadn’t seen her since he was (more or less) forcefully removed from the medbay into which Greya was swallowed but the image of her had been imprinted onto his brain. The more he recalled the weak, bleeding and violated form of his lover, the stronger his resolve became to expose the culprits.

 

 _“Nemet.”_ The first incrimination had lost the simpering touch that had disdained the Commandant; rather, it gained his attention and an encouraging nod though he took no notice of the approval that he had once craved. Armitage had become fixed, certain and expressionless when he realized that justice could be done, even if he had to rely on his father to attain it. Again, he focused on his broken Greya to coldly and surely deliver the next name. _“Veers.”_ What did he expect to happen though? Their families were Imperial elite, the most impeccable of breeding and with incredible influence. At that moment though, a righteousness stirred in his breast that seemed to cloud everything and temporarily assure him that everything would be alright. But it wouldn’t last long. _“Motti.”_ Upon the last name, Armitage felt his icy confidence begin to waver and the sense of expectancy from across the desk had sparked it.

 

 **“Is that it?”** Mouth drying at the prospect if imminent failure; he had nothing else to offer. He had ashamedly severed himself from the situation when it became too much and Motti had been the last before he had done so. Armitage’s eyes dropped, squeezed shut almost in punishment and confidence thoroughly diminished, his father seemed to read between the lines with flawless intuition. **“I’m optimistic that more can be uncovered from those names.”** Perhaps gentle wasn’t the word to describe the lightening of the Commandant’s demeanour but it was clearly less intense than previous. The son dared to open and heighten his eyes, almost positive that he had imagined such gentility and when he looked up, it definitely didn’t show in the Commandant’s face. **“You’re dismissed, cadet. If you recall anything else, I will give you priority of my time but in the meantime, I will follow up this matter personally.”**

* * *

 

Meandering aimlessly and thoughtlessly, Armitage Hux’s steps tore him between two places. His own room (nestled in a burrow of rapists) or the medbay. Selfishly (and he later scolded himself for this), he found himself terrified to see her. He had been given no instructions to refrain from the medbay but would visiting her force him to relive his own failure? That failure of being unable to protect her? Hesitating in the corridor in the late hours was sure to get him reprimanded by a patrol should he be caught which left him with a decision to make: Comforting his beloved Greya or retreating to his room like a coward. He decided to be a man. He hadn’t been able to prevent this atrocity but now, he was going to do all in his power to ensure that Greya not only recovered but he would strive to rebuild her to the confident young woman he was absolutely besotted with. As if on autopilot, Armitage found himself at the entrance to the medbay and scarcely supressing his memory of his last visit there; he could almost feel the weight of her in his arms.

 

The darkness of the ward didn’t frighten him but did put him on edge, unsure of what he was going to find. Each bed he stalked past was empty and alarm started to stir again as his head swivelled from side to side and his steps became more frenzied when there was no sign of Greya. Working himself up into panic did nothing to help him nor did it prepare him for the hand on his shoulder; causing him to jump and exclaim aloud. The fright left a small ruffling of panting in his chest only to turn and find the nurse who had taken Greya from him; the nurse that had patched him up on numerous occasions. No words were exchanged, not yet but he took it in his instincts to follow her in a solemn procession from the desolate ward and into a section he’d never seen before.

 

 _“She’s sleeping.”_ The kindly woman he’d known for years informed him with her voice soft and low when they stopped at a large, solid cubicle rather than a curtained one. _“She’s under heavy sedation and undergoing a course of vigorous pain relief.”_ The troubled look of pity put Armitage on a knife’s edge as her hand hovered reluctantly over the door handle. _“She’s also been given a substantial dose of contraceptives, just in case.”_ The implication chilled his blood but before he could dwell on it sooner (and perhaps it was a mercy that he was served with a distraction), her hand lowered to release the spring and grant them entry.

 

Lights low, room silent, atmosphere heavy; the nurse hovered at the door as the redhead’s feet seemed to be pulled into the austere environment that housed his unconscious and severely injured lover. He could just about make her out; paler than usual, mousy brown strands bundled into a ponytail behind her, breathing shallow but most disturbing of all was the outlines of her legs under the blankets, spread wide to relieve pressure and pain. He braved a few steps more until he found himself even with the bed as a lump started to steadily develop in his throat and his nerve started to fray; he needed to remember, he needed justice and she did too. Considerate of the time and his delicate, sleeping partner; Hux opted to lift the chair rather than drag it to the top of the bed where he could be as close to her as physically possible. So close, in fact, that they could share a pillow which they did, despite the awkward angle and potential pain in his neck.

 

 _“There’s a spare blanket in the cabinet.”_ The doleful raising of his eyes loaned his attention to the nurse once more. She stood poised with her hand on the handle and ready to close it behind her to leave the couple in peace. _“If you need anything, you know where to find me.”_ No sooner were the generous words uttered and they were left to themselves. Face to face, nose to nose and a single hand warming her fragile cheek; Armitage did all he could to keep himself in check. The apologetic press of his lips to the bridge of her nose caught the very ghost of a breath on his chin; an overly simple thing that meant so much.

 

 _“This shouldn’t have happened.”_ He told her, each word dripping with regret and blame as his thumb ever so gently started to stroke her cheek. _“But I’m going to make it right, I’m going to make sure they **all** suffer.” _The thick swallow reminded him to keep himself restrained; he needed to be strong and needed to do so for her. _“I promise they will.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, tell me what you think. :D  
> Sorry it's short. :/


	8. Jevelet/ The Voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armitage is summoned to another meeting with the Commandant and Greya's fate is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay!

 

It had been a slow, hazy week since Greya had been attacked on the way back to her dorm under the escort of her friend and lover, Armitage Hux. The brutal events that unfolded in that corridor continued to plague him in his rare hours of sleep and time did not seem to heal him as the age-old proverb promised. Since her first night in the medical bay, he had not left her side, loyally sitting at the edge of her bed and holding her hand over the cot rail; the only break in his watch was the rare occasion in which he slipped away to shower or closed his eyes to ease the exhaustion. The relationship he’d built with the nurse over the years had been fruitful as she never shooed him away (despite his constant presence), she kept his pillow and his blanket fresh and delivered food at mealtimes. However, the longer Hux spent with Greya, the more he realized that something was wrong. She never woke. Her sedation was constant. When he questioned it, the nurse simply brushed it off. Still, he stayed.

 

His dedication to his classes and the summer program had faltered tremendously for a number of reasons. The first: He could not bear to be in the same breathing space as the smug thugs who had massacred his partner while they went unpunished, the injustice of it was too much to think about, let alone actually attempt. The second: How could he possibly focus on a lesson when there was a possibility of a change in Greya’s condition? It would be just his luck that the first time he ventured from her side for more than a half an hour that she would wake and look for him. The third: There was little likelihood of Greya being fit enough for the summer program now. The final few weeks of the term loomed and her recovery was already hindered, almost purposefully. Needless to say, he would not attend the summer program without her and was already in the process of forfeiting his place.

 

The fourth and final reason: His studies and his goals had become meaningless and of no interest to the redhead. His sole purpose seemed to boil down to sitting in the med bay and waiting for Greya to rouse and thus far, still nothing. Neither his father nor any other high ranking official of the Academy came to check her progress, offer compassion, support or an update on justice. There was no talk of compensation, how the results of her first year within the Academy would be calculated given her condition; or anything else for that matter. No one came, nothing happened; she languished, oblivious to the world around her while Armitage had the pain of consciousness. He noticed the lack of everything, how Greya had been swept to one side and ignored, how she wasn’t worthy of a visit or even an apology from the so-called representatives of the Academy. Why would he want to be part of it? If they could treat her, an innocent, this way; why would he work towards becoming one of them and thriving in that terrible environment? He didn’t. Not anymore.

 

The seat beneath his rear had inherited a perfect mould of his buttocks from the continuous contact over the course of the week and even now, as he rested his arms on the cot side and his cheek on his arms and forlornly gazed at the motionless face; impervious to the passing of time, his own breathing and the nurse hesitating at the doorway. Had he noticed her, he may or may not have noticed the pity in her face and the indecision in her body language as she floated just outside the threshold. The only thing to rip him from his daydream was the gentle clearing of a throat that didn’t register right away. When it did, however; the despondency flickered from one female to another.

“The Commandant wants to see you.”

 

* * *

 

 

As before, it seemed his father was only interested in unnerving and whittling him by staring him down in silence while hundreds of possible conversations tore through his head. Armitage didn’t dare speak; his father always spoke first and that would be common ground (proof that he was no more valued than the others) between him and any other Cadet. Gaze unreadable, hands folded and back rigid, Hux senior regarded his only child with something of disdain though Armitage couldn’t fathom why. He was about to find out.

 

 **“I hear-“** That drawl always managed to inspire dread. **“That your attendance at your classes has waned since the incident with Cadet Vardai.”** Another silent stalemate ensued but Armitage knew better than to keep his father waiting.

 

“Yes, sir.” Neither cocky nor brazen but Armitage stood firm and (almost) defiant.

 

**“And may I inquire as to _why_ that is?’ **

 

The itch to shuffle from foot to foot was almost unbearable under the heat of that scalding, expectant and indecipherable surveying; particularly for someone who was little more than a child and had been terrorized by this man for his entire life to date. There were many reasons but was he comfortable disclosing them to his father? Absolutely not. However, comfort had no place in the Commandant’s office and he already waited for an answer. So he decided to part with the most truthful and (at the same time) tormenting explanation.

 

“I feared that Grey- Cadet Vardai might wake from her sedation and look for me; I feared that she would become distressed and even more ill if I wasn’t there when she needed me.” How could he expect his father to understand that? Surely to do so required humanity the Commandant just didn’t possess? Armitage was correct in that sentiment. Clearly (and predictably) unmoved, the elder redhead’s expression flashed indifference but questioning was far from over; he could examine his son’s inadequacy another time.

 

 **“I followed up the names you gave me in our last meeting.”** Armitage stiffened; were they about to get justice? The indifference lingered in his father’s face, impossible to tell the positive from the negative. **“Those leads proved unsuccessful.”** And that was when Armitage forgot himself.

 

“Unsuccessful?” The beat in between was not enough for his father to interject before the cadet continued to spew his incomprehension. “I… I don’t understand; unsuccessful how? There’s…. There’s security feed! Surely! DNA! They… They… Tested her!” Pathetic and all as the uncontrollable rambling was, the Commandant would let it run its course. “They were all there! Question them! Surely someone heard something?! She was screaming, how did no one hear her screaming?!” The descent into frayed resolve and scrambling attempts at absorption were swiftly cut short when Commandant Hux grew both bored and agitated.

 

 **“They were questioned.”** Brendol interjected cleanly with patience that had started to waver. **“They denied their involvement, denied they were anywhere near the area when it happened. There was no security footage, nor security recordings and no one reported hearing screaming or any sort of commotion at the time of the alleged incident.”**

“Alleged?!”

 

 **“What I did uncover from one of the accused-“** Armitage listened helplessly, hopes of retribution dashed. **“Is that the only one in any sort of a sexual or physical relationship with Cadet Vardai at the time-“** Dumbfounded, the answer was exactly what he thought it would be. **“Was you.”**

Mouth dry and eyes unblinking from the anticipatory form of his father; the disbelief at the implication wracked him.

 

_“You… You don’t think **I** did this?!”_

**“Were you or were you not in a sexual relationship with Cadet Vardai?”**

“Y… Yes but-“

 

**“You are aware, Cadet, that that is against regulations and can warrant dismissal?”**

_“You can’t be serious! They **raped her!”**_

**“So you say.”** Without invitation, Armitage sank into the chair on the outside of his father’s desk before his quaking knees gave way. Face hidden by the bottoms of his palms and his ivory fingers grappling at his hair, there was never a more despicable display of spinelessness at such a prestigious hive of Imperial learning. **“No charges are being filed.”** A morose shake of the fiery head added to the piteous sight. **“And Miss Vardei is being dismissed.”** That last sentence, the ultimate insult, inspired a slow heightening of his face from his hands; eyes bloodshot and cheeks stained.

 

_“Dismissed….?”_

**“Whilst here, she is a drain on resources. She is taking a bed, medication and the nurse’s time and attention; she is no longer the concern of the Academy and therefore is being sent elsewhere to be accurately assessed and treated accordingly.”** The callousness was revolting but had he really foreseen anything different? Perhaps if his state of mind was not so scattered or frazzled, his usual clarity of mind would have prevailed but this time…. He had really thought his father would come through.

 

_“Where…. Are you sending her?”_

**“She will be housed in the Jevelet establishment-“**

_“Jevelet….”_ That haunted word tumbled from horrified lips as snippets of terrible information came hurtling towards him at the very mention of the word and his breath shortened in utter dishevelment. _“That’s…. That’s an **asylum….** You can’t-!”_

**“It is already done!”** His father snapped, tired of the mewling. He knew Armitage had been weak-willed but this, this was an entirely different humiliation for the Hux name, second only to producing a bastard son in the first place.

 

_“Father, please!”_

**“YOU WERE WARNED!!”** The sudden explosion, scraping of a shoved chair, booted feet taking his weight and the heavy colliding of a fist to the desk marked the end of a tether and the whimpered recoiling only added fuel to fire. **“YOU WERE WARNED NEVER TO CALL ME THAT!!”** Putting a bull rancor to shame with the snort of absolute incensement, Brendol glowered over the desk at the snivelling creature made in his image; the only proof of an affair he’d had nearly sixteen years ago. **“WE CANNOT AND WILL NOT RISK A SCANDAL AT THIS ACADEMY, NOT ON MY WATCH!!”** The brief pause of hanging silence did not get a chance to settle. **“IF YOU TAKE ISSUE WITH THE CARE BEING ALLOCATED TO YOUR WHORE BY THE ACADEMY, BY ALL MEANS, FEEL FREE TO PAY FOR IT YOURSELF!! NOW GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!!”**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It had been perfectly timed. When he left the office, shaking like an Arkanian leaf, and returned to the med bey, the cubicle was empty and the bed stripped with little delay. At first, he assumed he must have wandered into the wrong room, the wrong wing; anything but the obvious that waited to be realized. And when he did finally realize it, how long had he stood there, disorientated and dazed while agony and rage bubbled simultaneously beneath the surface? He couldn’t say, time had betrayed him, along with someone else. The nurse apologetically informed him that Greya had been discharged under his father’s instruction and was already en route to the Jevelet System; so much for trust. He didn’t even allow her to finish whatever soft excuses she had carefully put together and it seemed she knew better than to follow him when he walked away in distraught disgust; unable to remain in that dreadful place a moment longer.

 

His own room felt alien; the ceiling he’d stared at for years felt unfamiliar but it welcomed him home regardless after spending rest week in Greya’s room and the following week at her bedside. Too beside himself to cry, he simply stared into the oblivion overhead while it felt like his internal pain was bordering on becoming physical; like his entire body had fallen under the mercy of some cruel vice.

 

Jevelet….. He’d heard stories, all of which he (unfortunately) had no reason to disbelieve though to do so would have been a kindness, if only to himself. He recalled hearing about the dangerous and the criminally insane that were shipped to Jevelet, never to be heard from again; most, if not all, of them men. He’d heard about the asylum renowned for its cruelty and its isolation facility; the celebrated Jevelet that broke the criminals and silenced the mad. And now, his Greya…. His defenceless, raw and violated Greya…. Being thrown to the wolves and left to fend for herself. And all for the sake of the Academy saving face, for refusing to punish the wrong and hiding the perpetrators.

 

So enveloped in his fret, he couldn’t place when it started but it woke him; the breathing. Instead of alarm (as would be the normal reaction to foreign breathing in an empty room), Armitage felt strangely at peace, like he did when he was with Greya. Sitting up into the adjusting darkness, the redhead’s eyes flickered in curiosity; he could see no one but the breathing, a frail sort of rattle, continued.

 

“Hello?” The breathing shifted when he spoke, as though it was moving; encircling him and being churned up by his greeting. He wet his lips and opened his mouth to speak into the void again but-

 

 _“Young Hux.”_ His mouth dried again instantaneously as he chanced another glance around; no one to be seen. Instinctively, he took a step forward without fear, merely inquisitiveness for this faceless, bodiless entity that spoke in a laboured, drawn out rasp.

 

“Who’re you?”

 

 _“I am your salvation.”_ Brow melting into a somewhat perplexed furrow, his confusion became apparent. _“I am **her** salvation.” Greya?_

“Her salvation?!” Armitage almost stumbled over the words in a bid to get them out fast enough but it seemed this _thing_ , whatever it was, was in no hurry to leave him just yet. Desperately, his eyes searched the darkness with newly discovered frenzy but even if the lights were on, he would have seen nothing and no one. “What do you mean, “ **her salvation** ”?!” The thing paused and in his frustration, Armitage could feel his breaths getting heavier and his emotions getting clamoured. **“Speak to me! Please!”**

_“You are gifted.”_

**“What?!”**

_“You are clever, diligent and dedicated.”_

**“What does that have to do with her?!”**

_“Do as I instruct-“_ Armitage’s chest tightened and a hand knotted into scarlet strands. _“And I will return her to you. Free of affliction and illness, exactly as she used to be.”_

**“Can you do that?!”**

****

_“I can and I shall but you **must** serve me in return.”_

 

 **“Will you punish them?!”** The Commandant’s son pleaded, sniffling into the nothingness and choking on a dry sob as the possibilities unravelled themselves; how could he be sure this was even real and not an elaborate trick of his own mind?

 

 _“No.”_ He felt himself on the verge of crumbling after being built up with this random hope but again, the voice cut in before he could fall too far. _“You will do that with the tools I will give you.”_

**“I’ll do it!”** He had never been more sure, more resolute or more concrete on anything in his fifteen years, even if it meant hurling himself into the unknown. As an Imperial rule, everything centred around reality, logic and discipline; the witchcraft referred to as “The Force” was little more than a fairy-tale which rational and reasonable beings would scoff at. But now, and he wasn’t sure how he brushed the “hocus pocus” concept aside, but he would bend to it and disregard what he had been taught; for Greya. **“Tell me what to do and I’ll do it!”**

 

 _“Rest now.”_ It soothed and inexplicably, his emotions became less inflamed as a sudden wave of fatigue wrapped around him. _“You will hone your talents, you will supersede the weak and when the time comes, you will be unstoppable.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who was speaking to him, I wonder....? Hmm.....


	9. Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nearly three years after the life-destroying incident, Armitage is allowed to visit Greya at Jevelet for the first time as an eighteenth birthday present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cried. Several times.

So Armitage did as he was bid. The suspended voice instructed him to hone his talents and he did just that. He dedicated himself to advancing and with no Greya to ground him to the medbay, it became easier to seal himself off and focus. He became rigid in his classes; encased in his own bubble of education without the socialization that the others only seemed to attend for. He managed to ignore the sneers and the predatory smirks of the guilty but not-so-guilty parties; they were without doubt the most difficult part of remaining in the Academy, second only to his father, of course.

 

Yet, he thrived like the voice said he would. He excelled academically and surpassed all expectations, even if it meant doing it alone without the orphan at his side to encourage him. He thought of her often; every night, in fact. Sometimes he would weep, other times he would get a sudden surge of diligence and take out a holo to study further and push himself to succeed.

 

 ** _“IF YOU TAKE ISSUE WITH THE CARE BEING ALLOCATED TO YOUR WHORE BY THE ACADEMY, BY ALL MEANS, FEEL FREE TO PAY FOR IT YOURSELF!!”_** He couldn’t. As a cadet, he had no income; income was only earned by officers and that income was dependent on rank. He relied on the Academy for bed and board and what menial pocket money his father grudgingly transferred once a week was scarcely enough (despite how religiously he saved) for his minor needs, let alone the extensive bills that would come with decent residential care.

 

Did she need residential care? Nearly three years later, when he visited her for the first time as an officer candidate, he would find out.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Petrified. How could he be anything else? He’d told himself that the prison exterior of Jevelet could not and did not extend into the institution but as he marched with an armed prison officer flanking either side, the more his stomach turned and he fought the urge to cry again. Dull, dark and dingy; light, powerful light, was used as a blanket control mechanism for prisoners and though his escorts navigated their way flawlessly, Armitage was not so graceful until his eyes adjusted. Sinister shadows lurked behind their barred confines and though secure, they threatened him nonetheless; sadistic and gleeful, some of them predators and most likely eager to get to an unprotected female.

 

 _Cold_ , he noted with unease as booted footsteps rang on worn but sturdy flagstones; his trepidation of this facility only worsening with every atrocious discovery. This place…. This _dreadful place_ ….  It had been her home for nearly three years and the only reason he was there then was on his father’s “good graces”; an eighteenth birthday present that had, of course, been designed to torture him.

 

 **“Inmate 1983!!”** One guard at his side called nonchalantly up to another while the redhead watched the exchange with climbing distress. _Inmate?!_ Before he could voice his concern that he wasn’t there to see an inmate, he was there to visit a patient, the other countered:

 

**“Yeah, she’s in.”**

 

 **“She been sedated?!”** Looking between the two in utter revulsion, his hair flopping as he did; Armitage resolved that there had been a mistake, that they referred to another inmate but caught between the two, he found it hard to interject. The seemingly normal (if hollered) conversation between the guards continued.

 

 **“’Bout an hour ago.”** The one on the upper deck answered. **“Took a while; had to wait for the tranq darts. Medic wasn’t gettin’ near her with a needle today!”**

**“She hurt him?!”**

**“Not the worst.”**

“She’s difficult.” The other guard beside him leaned in to address him quietly when he noticed the alarm; this one seemed to have a more compassionate edge. “Doesn’t like men near her. It’s fine on a normal day when she’s by herself but it’s mostly male staff here; if she needs a check-up or her cell needs cleaning, she needs to be sedated to be moved.” The titbits of information had been intended as an explanation to ease him (not knowing his connection to one of the few female inmates) but the actual result was a chilling of Hux’s blood. “She doesn’t have visitors…” The officer added with a twinge of pity for both Armitage and (seemingly) Greya. “So today is a first.”

 

Before any more terrible revelations could be made, Armitage was shepherded into an elevator; a gloomy, decrepit cage that shut with a stuttering, rattling **_snap_**. The surprisingly smooth ride went unnoticed as his anxiety climbed with the prison levels and he became oblivious to everything but his own consciousness. _Sedated? Doesn’t like men near her? Cell?_ They didn’t sound like they were dealing with a delicate, traumatized human; rather, a rabid, wild _beast_.

 

He woke to the clearing of a throat; a gentle reminder from the kinder guard that they had reached their destination. Even at the entrance to the block, his I.D was checked and scrutinized; despite there being nowhere to go and no change of company since it was last checked upon his entry. Stealing another fraught look around as the guards exchanged briefs, Hux felt his stomach clench when he realized that the prison and the “hospital” were not separate. They were one of the same with very little allowances made for a poor soul like Greya. Everything was the same as on the lower levels in the prison section; the same icy stone floors, the same unforgiving brickwork in the walls and the same foreboding guard presence who appeared a little too ready to pull a trigger.

 

The nudge of the butt of a blaster rifle herded him on though his feet did not want to seem to move. He was prodded until he fell into step and if he, a visitor, was treated this way; he could only imagine what an inmate would be subjected to.

 

 **“INMATE 1983!!”** He brasher of the two guards announced when they came to a stop outside a solid door with a small slot at the bottom; presumably for food. The ruthless **thudding** bash of a rifle collided with the door which caused Armitage to jump; not just in fright but revulsion. **“YOU IN THERE, PRINCESS??!! GOT A VISITOR!!”** Callously raising his voice to alert the sedated occupant, he saw nothing wrong with his behaviour. The other guard, on the other hand, slid the young redhead a look of sympathy though did nothing to correct his colleague. He waited a benign few seconds then swiped his I.D at the panel beside the door.

 

“I’ll go.” The (significantly) more humane of the two interjected before the other could with method in his madness and obeying protocol at the same time. “You stay out here.” The shrug suggested indifference, it meant he had less to trouble him should things go wrong; why wouldn’t he accept? Another glance of condolence prompted Armitage to follow his preferred guard into the _cell._

 

* * *

 

 

The suspicion had been sneaking and he had told himself it wasn’t the case but when it was confirmed, Armitage struggled to hold his crumbling perseverance; the only difference in the cells he passed and Greya’s were there were no bars in the door. Everything was cruelly the same, right down to the rickety, wire-frame bed in the corner; the bed where a barely familiar form was sprawled. The guard gestured inwards, an invitation to approach but Armitage hesitated when fear gripped him again. Flashbacks of that nightmarish week in the medbay came flooding back where she remained the same until she was disposed of without a goodbye. In the following years, he had hoped she might have recovered; that she might have made progress with the proper care but…. Obviously not.

 

One reluctant footstep set upon the other until he reached the bed and only then did any hold he had on himself wither along with those hopes. Thin, outrageously thin. Haggard, exhausted, gaunt. She lay there; one might have been forgiven for thinking she was resting on first glance but with her eyes half open and she watched him warily through the immobile slits. The child solider sank on shaking knees to put himself on her level, to assure her he meant no harm.

 

 _“Hi Greya….”_ It came out in a wobble with a sniff and he was suddenly overly aware of the guard by the door. _“Can you give us a minute please?”_

“Sorry, kid.” He did genuinely seem apologetic and morose. “It’s against regulation, one of us _has_ to be here.” He could appreciate rules and regulation in normal circumstances but whether those were to protect him or Greya, didn’t really matter.

 _“Do you have a beloved?”_ He asked the guard, subdued and defeated, with another sniffle, descending into personal situations with a man he didn’t know without looking at him.

 

“I…..” Caught unawares and taken somewhat aback by the question, the guard stumbled on the answer. “Well, yeah, my wife’s my-“

 

 _“So please give me a moment alone with mine.”_ What could he say? As if corruption wasn’t already rife in Jevelet with far more important directives being ignored; why not waver this one for a pure purpose that he could understand on a personal level? So he did. A murmur of concession followed by a beep of acceptance from the scanner on the wall meant the guard had left them and Armitage took that as his cue to let his emotions cascade.

 

 _“What have they done to you…..?”_ He wept, knowing he wouldn’t get an answer from the heavily drugged female that had once been bright, bubbly and the absolute light of his otherwise dreary life. Her eyelids flickered in vain communication but remained trained on his with her breathing shallow and laboured; the sight of it was agonizing. Greya’s eyes (what was visible of them) mirrored distrust and it devastated him to realize that she didn’t recognize him.

 

 _“Greya….?”_ The gentle grip on her hand resulted in a spasm-like twitch; as if she had tried to snatch her hand away but the paralysis prevented that and so, she was forced to endure the one-sided contact. He tried again with an edge of desperation and a stab of unmistakeable grief. _“Greya, it’s me….. Armitage….”_ The little whinge tore at him, the protest of fear and helplessness as part of her lip folded down in the barest of movement; as if she was trying to plead with him to leave her be, as if she dreaded what would come next.

 

 _Doesn’t like men near her…._ Had he thought that didn’t apply to him? Perhaps he’d assumed she would have recognized him and therefore, his male status would not prohibit him from interacting with her. That was clearly not the case as the hindered, pathetic attempts to be left alone grated at and disheartened him into a fresh wave of floundering, tearful inhales. Heart aching and eyes stinging, Armitage carefully withdrew his hand and shuffled back several feet from the bed; the last thing he wanted to do was impose on her and further fray her condition.

 

Armitage sat and stared through watering eyes; crushed and overwhelmed by the wretched state he found her in. What had started as a simple (and positive day) had spiralled out of control all those years ago and now, they both still suffered for it though she significantly more than he. His father still denied any wrongdoing and defended the reputation of the Academy with venom and pride, protecting those who had obliterated this once confident young woman into a shambling shadow of her former self; a crime which should have been punished severely. He observed her still, knowing he was short on time and as much as it destroyed him to see her like this, he persisted, ignorant of when he would see her again. The urge to kiss her; either on the forehead or the cheek was extinguished out of melancholic practicality.

 

He didn’t realize the guard had re-entered until he spoke.

 

“Time’s up, kid.” Eyes bloodshot and mind in disarray, the redhead managed to untangle himself from thoughts of utter trauma. “Time to go.”

 

 _“It hasn’t been ten minutes, has it?”_ He responded meekly, barely tearing his gaze from his beloved companion; weak and vulnerable on the bed. _“I was told ten minutes….”_ How despicable was that? The promise of torment in this hellhole and he took it gladly if it meant he could see her for a miserable ten minutes. Did he wish he had not accepted and forgone a birthday present? He couldn’t be sure.

 

“’Fraid so.” The guard replied with the same empathy as before. “C’mon, don’t do it to yourself.” But Armitage wasn’t finished.

 

 _“You said she had no visitors.”_ He murmured, chancing one more glance at Greya before he stood to face the guard, stony-faced. _“That’s not true, is it?”_ Discomfort suddenly swept the guard’s demeanour; Greya was no longer the only one defenceless. Then: Armitage snapped with an eruption of temper and boiling fury. **_“IS IT?!”_** The armed one swallowed under the unwavering dissection of the younger male; a creature he would have undermined in a heartbeat but here he was, defying that expectation.

 

 _“They’re forbidden to, it’s against regulations….”_ He confessed somewhat numbly though (to his credit) there was disgust nestled somewhere in that statement. _“They can wipe their I.D tag from the system, we never know who’s been here or when but it always shows up in her check-ups or on the sheets….”_ Winded, Armitage stumbled past him; physically sick and headed for the door. _“I’ve never touched her; I have a daughter, I wouldn’t-!“_

It fell on deaf ears. Without waiting for the escort; Armitage tore from the cell, then the corridor, then the block, then the prison itself with one blazing, distinct and determined decision imprinted on his brain. She would not be staying there, not if he could help it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do review. xxx


	10. Divine Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux receives a com call then re-visits Jevelet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while!

He didn’t know how he did it or how it happened but whatever it was, Armitage Hux was grateful.

 

Another draining day, another wary evening; like everything was on repeat but why should this night be different to any of the others?

 

Perched on his bed with uniform neatly folded to the appropriate creases (a habit that would follow him into adulthood), Armitage sat and simply re-evaluated the day. An officer now and thriving, his responsibilities surpassed that of a cadet or even an officer candidate and somehow, he assumed his father was responsible for that; anything to keep him busy and focused. Focused on anything than a certain _someone._

But Armitage played his father’s game. Fulfilled his duties, obeyed his commands, ran the extra errands; did whatever to lure his father into placation that his plan was working. However, between the hours of 08.00 and 20.00, Armitage was paid. Maybe not exceptionally well but it was better than the miserly and grudging pocket money that his father sometimes _“forgot”_ to transfer, the pocket money that was almost impossible to save. Needless to say, said pocket money had ceased since the wage started coming in and Armitage didn’t miss it.

 

The gentle buzzing of his com (set to a quieter setting for his off-duty hours) disturbed him, though not immediately, as it reverberated on the bedside table. His eyes rested on his uniform, disdained at the idea of dressing and presenting himself to the usual standard for the sake of some stupid and menial request of a drunken superiour. Resigned to do what would keep him in favour and therefore continue to rise through the ranks, he readied himself to comply.

 

“Yes?”

 

 **“Hello. Am I speaking to a…. Armitage Hux?”** Piqued and curious, he sat up fully in expectancy with his brow creased.

 

“Yes. Speaking?”

 

**“Good evening, Mr Hux, my name is Nara Mentar; head of applications at the Merisee Grand Medical Facility. I hope I’m not intruding by comming you so late?”**

 

“Uhh… No, not at all!” Confusion deepened but in the most wonderful way, Armitage scrambled from his sitting position in favour of pacing his restricted quarters in just his socks, vest and boxers.

 

 **“Mr Hux, we’ve reviewed an application you’ve made on behalf of a Greya Vardai….”** Everything appeared to stop. Time suspended and the conversation seemed to pause while his mouth dried and his mind went into overdrive of the thousand different ways this com call could go: Good and bad. But Ms. Mentar continued regardless of if the young Hux was listening or not.

 

 **“We acknowledge that the application was made over a year ago and we appreciate your patience on the matter but we take the needs of our patients very seriously and so overcrowding is not an option for us.”** Armitage froze. To tell him such a thing and refuse the application would be cruel; to know such a facility (no matter how old it happened to be) was so well run and to turn them down would be a terrible blow. Particularly when the facility in question was the best case scenario, a dream come true.

 

“Of course…..”

 

 **“With that in mind, Mr Hux, we would like to extend our warmest welcomes to Greya, should she still be interested in a place here at Merisee.”** His heart leapt and the butterflies in his stomach erupted. The Merisee Grand Medical Facility was a collection of several buildings located in the city of Caronath on the planet Merisee. Dedicated to the healing arts, its services were expensive but fast, highly reliable and so, extremely sought after.

 

The facility, an actual hospital, was staffed by the finest doctors, nurses, specialists, technicians, and medical droids from the Elrood sector. All these combined made it an ideal place for Greya, where she would be cared for with competence, compassion and gentility; the polar opposite of Jevelet and where Armitage would have preferred to place her from the beginning.

“Yes!” The redhead remembered his decorum and clenched his jaw though he doubted Ms. Mentar would have accosted him as his superiours (including his own father) would have for letting his demeanour slip. Clearing his throat, the woman on the other end of the com was patient. “Yes, we would. We absolutely would, thank you.”

 

**“Now, as I’m sure you’ll understand, Mr Hux, we can only off you the most basic package of care with the figure you quoted us in your applicati-“**

“That’s fine!” Armitage jumped in, almost petrified that she would revoke the offer and they would lose the opening at Merisee. “That’s fine, we’ll take it! Anything to get her out of where she is!” It seemed Ms. Mentar was sympathetic.

 

**“Excellent! And, as I was about to say, Mr Hux, there is the possibility of an advanced care improvement scheme. It’s offered to some of our more trustworthy clients with the assurance of later payment-“**

“We’ll take it.” Armitage cut in once again, the prospect of going into such substantial debt so young meant nothing if Greya’s care was guaranteed; with a facility as prestigious as Merisee, that guarantee was as good as granted. Coiling his lips together to moisten them, these words would cement his beloved’s future. “We’d like to accept the placement, please.”

 

 **“Wonderful!”** Nara Mentar genuinely sounded pleased and enthusiastic; another relief: humane staff. **“We’ll be in touch tomorrow to finalize details of Greya’s transfer to Merisee. Would you like us to collect her from her current residence and bring her-“**

“No.” Hux had never been surer of anything, ever. Resolution echoed in those words and was reflected in those hardened features. He gripped the com firmer than was probably necessary but a sudden bout of fury provoked it. “No, I’ll see to that myself. Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Even with the strings he pulled, the favours he called in, the promises he made; he still didn’t see how it amounted to the force he stormed Jevelet with. As if everyone he approached had their mind in an invisible grasp, they agreed instantly to aid him in his quest to release Greya from her prison. His superiours commissioned squadrons, hundreds of Stormtroopers at a time. The head medic dispatched a team of doctors, nurses, droids and equipment. And the commanding officer of transport gifted him one of the finest, most spacious and best suited carriers for the run from Jevelet to Merisee.

 

And all without a servile, pleading mumble to his father.

 

* * *

 

 

The guards scattered like cockroaches; trained for such an eventuality but had grown lazy and complacent that such a thing would never occur. Armitage lead the medical team in his pristine officer’s uniform and groomed appearance, the small group flanked and proceeded by innumerable armed and ready Stormtroopers.

 

The obscene howling of prisoners dinned around them but Armitage, trained on one target, didn’t hear it. The icy flagstones underfoot hadn’t changed in the year he’d been there, nor had the bars on the cells or the walls a foot thick. Even the smell of stale piss still hung insistently in the air. Prisoners had come and gone; some had died and more had been admitted to take their place, he doubted any had been released.

 

With his march impeccable, Armitage remembered his way, all the way to the cellblock where inmate 1983 unknowingly awaited resc-transfer. Each checkpoint they arrived at throughout the prison galvanized the cowardice among the guards who simply over-rode the system at blaster-point to let the invading force through; much to the future General’s disgust. He commanded like one; a General, that is. He lead like one, paraded like one, decided like one; no doubt his charisma and professionalism were observed and would be reported back.

 

They met no resistance until they arrived where the bellowed conversation between the guards had happened on his last visit to Jevelet. There, he noticed something else had not changed; one particular guard, emerging from Greya’s wing.

 

 **“OI!!”** The holler earned little more than a casual glance upwards and a slowing in the pace of the party but stopping was not an option. That guard, the same brash and cruel guard who had treated his darling Greya like a prisoner who had deserved such treatment. **“WHERE D’YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING??!!”** The guard thundered the stairs, fixated on the redhead and trying to place where he knew him from until…. **“YOU!!”** Even now, the guard held a significant height difference but Armitage saw no threat. **“I KNOW YOU!!”**

“Yes, I remember you too.” Oozing nonchalance, it took a single, minute gesture of his head and a series of micromovements to have the guard subdued. Standard procedure of the butt of a blaster rifle between the shoulder blades and a connecting of a front of a knee to the back sufficed to have the guard forced downwards and arms restrained behind his back; subjugated to the young officer.

 

“Take this.” Armitage plucked the I.D badge from the guard’s person and handed it to the tech to his right, one of his own team. “Go to the cell third on the left, do not enter the cell. But tell me if that I.D has been used on that door in the last thirty minutes. Thank you.” While the tech skittered off, Armitage maintained an unnervingly calm and triumphant watch on the bleeding face of the unnamed guard; smug even, despite what could have (and probably did) potentially happen.

 

 **“Thirteen minutes, sir!”** The tech called over the side of the railing after he’d worked his magic; Armitage allowed the ghost of a smirk to pull at those pallid lips as his eyes locked with those of the guard. He didn’t bother to struggle but the brazen stare strengthened Hux’s resolve, as if wasn’t concrete already.

 

“Silly man.” Two words. Two simple words; of all the hundreds of thousands in the Galactic Basic language, those two words were the last to ever enter that guard’s eardrums. Or, arguably, the last sound. For the three direct shots to his uniformed chest came from a silenced blaster in the gloved hand of a young, redheaded officer.

 

The shell tumbled to the side with an unbecoming **_thump_** , nothing more now than a useless sack of meat; to the thunderous approval of nearby inmates, naturally. Callous and unrepentant for his deed, Armitage made a point of stepping over the corpse to continue on his way while his flock opted to go around it.

 

“She will need to be sedated.” The brief outside the cell would be just that: brief. “Men do not sit well with her so I would prefer this to be a female only operation where possible.” The two female medics (who were the most accomplished on their respective vessels, as he understood) nodded not only their agreement but their comprehension of just how _delicate_ this particular case was. The team of nurses did the same before he continued with the strength and poise leadership required.

 

“While she is out, I would like her examined before we move her. Anything that requires treatment will be done so on the carrier, in a more sterile environment; unless urgency dictates, of course.” Hux averted his gaze while the tranquilizer blaster was being loaded by a medic. “Anything untoward is to be reported to me.” With nothing else to say and the team ready, Hux stepped aside before giving the final, approving nod. “At your discretion, Doctors.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do review!


	11. Merisee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greya settles into Merisee. Her progress is bitter-sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't realize it's been six months since I updated this! I'm so sorry!  
> Enjoy!

The Merisee Grand Medical Facility was a dream.

 

Not even in comparison to Jevelet, that place had undergone something of a facelift; an improvement, if Armitage Hux were to be consulted on the matter. Blaster bolt scorch marks, walls reduced to rubble, puddles of blood from guard and prisoner alike.... All a non-issue once Greya was carefully lifted aboard the borrowed carrier and zipped to the safety of her new home.

 

Merisee was a dream from the very first moment Greya was stretchered over the threshold; only to be beamingly greeted by Nara Mentar herself. The Stormtroopers and the vast majority of the escort from Jevelet waited on the ship; only one medic, one nurse and Armitage had accompanied Greya inside. The sparsity of company meant nothing to those in the know; not when the com control tower had identified the carrier and lifeforms aboard. The vessel in question and attending entourage had been confirmed as Imperial. And Imperial meant money.

 

The medic under Armitage’s charge quietly briefed the resident head medic of Merisee; swapping data files, medication recommendations, professional opinions and contact information. The nurse of Imperial employment bustlingly demonstrated to an onlooking group of nurses (also of Merisee) how Greya should be handled; as delicately and as gently as possible. With the presentation concluded, the (still) sedated female was swept away for examination and settling under her nurse’s watchful eye. Meanwhile, Armitage was ushered into an office by Nara where umpteen data files received his personal mark of guarantee.

 

* * *

 

 

Armitage remembered the last time he’d seen Greya in a bed; a hospital bed, but still a bed. The _surface_ she’d slept on in Jevelet was not a bed at all so he discounted that immediately. The last time he’d seen Greya in a bed had been in the med bay, just before he was summoned to his father’s office; incidentally, it was the last time he’d seen her at all until three years later. She’d been broken, bruised, tormented and in a limbo that ensured she didn’t have to deal with the trauma of something she never should have had to go through in the first place. It seemed, according to the head medic, that said limbo had been the cause of the damage; devastating damage to the brain.

 

And yet, when the data work was done and he was free to see her room, Armitage hovered in the doorway. Experience had taught him to be wary, sense told him to be fearful; as if this merciful break in their awful mould hadn’t registered yet, as if he was yet to be assured that the worst was over. To that end, you can imagine the sheer _relief_ when he finally convinced himself to take that deciding step over the threshold and into the room that would be such a positive setting from then on. Small, cozy, bright and nurturing; it was perfect.

 

The sedation was beginning to wear off, he was told. She _slept._ For the first time in a long time, Greya rested and slept at her body’s behest and not at the dictation of drugs forced into her system via a needle or otherwise. Sedation and short-term dealing with the problem ended there.

 

Treatment began now.

Improvement began now.

Healing began now.

 

Armitage, in his pristine uniform, respected the space as he ambled into the room; the room that would not be paid off for quite some time. The nurse read the nod of dismissal and heeded it instantly, to leave the lovers in peace. She had always been that, his beloved Greya; it just seemed like such a far-off concept in the last few years with the separation and her mental state. But now… as the redhead sat at her bedside once more with her hand enveloped in his, it didn’t feel like such a stretch.

 

Parked at her bedside previously, he’d been burdened with nothing but darkness and despair but now, with this promise of advancement, Armitage had hope. The alien idea of hope.

 

* * *

 

 

**_ Two Years Later _ **

**__ **

Footsteps. Booted footsteps. A cock of a chocolate head, listening. Even in the busy corridors, those footsteps, regimented and exact, always stood out.

 

Merisee had a reputation; and two years after Greya arrived, that reputation had already been earned, should Armitage Hux have been asked. Well… Sort of.  

 

_“I knew that was you.”_

 

Armitage (as always, in each of his visits), managed to restrain the tugging smile until the door was closed; he still had to project _some_ amount of Imperial discipline. When the door slid across to seal them away from the prying eyes of passers-by, the officer ditched the restraint.

 

Greya’s eyes closed serenely, her head tilted and her lips stretched at receiving the affectionate and lasting peck to her head. The bundle of fresh confectionary on the bedside table was eyed but for now, her attention swirled on her visitor.

 

She typically only had one visitor. The redheaded officer who doted on her, sat for hours with her and brought her things. The same officer who entered stoically and had to fight to regain that composure when he left. He always looked on her with adoration and a twinge of sadness but she liked his company, liked when he held her hand and talked to her if she felt like talking, sat quietly if she didn’t and took her to the garden if she wanted to go.

 

 _Psychogenic amnesia,_ they’d told him shortly after her admission; he allowed himself a twitch of his jaw but internally, he crumbled. _A coping mechanism for extreme trauma. It’s easier to wipe the memories than to deal with them, to erase everything to do with them._ _Under her previous sedation, she didn’t need to repress them. Now, she does._

That meant erasing him too.

 

_She knows her name is Greya._

_She doesn’t know why she’s here._

_We don’t have the heart to tell her._

“Did you start the art classes?” He asked placidly, helping her to unwrap and break up the slab of chocolate; one of four gifts he’d brought. “The last time I saw you, you were contemplating them.”

 

 _“I did.”_ She replied gently, graciously accepting the piece he handed her and curling a finger into the handle of her cup; tea and chocolate, a trademark of his visit. _“I like it. The teacher is nice and we’ve made some pretty things so…. I think I’ll keep going.”_

 

Armitage had hoped that “forgetting” about what had happened at the Academy and being drugged for the vast majority of her time at Jevelet would effectively mean he would have his old Greya back. That she would be her wild, rambunctious, vibrant self again. It was not to be. Not when her wakefulness required alternative treatment; something had to give. If it meant Greya was more subdued, quiet and meek but she was happy, Armitage would take it. Even if she didn’t remember him or them as they were; that he was essentially a new person who visited her, their connection a mystery.

 

“I’m very close to being promoted again.” He informed her with a taint of excitement; she lifted her cup to take a sip but watched him when he regaled her with news of his own. “I’ll have a different uniform the next time you see me.” Greya giggled into her teacup and Armitage bit his lip; that wouldn’t have been the reaction of his old Greya. She would have attacked him with some sort of playfully ruthless quip and the joke would keep going for months at a time. Not this Greya. This Greya, was not his old Greya but she was still his Greya and he loved this one just as deep as the other. Even if she didn’t know it, understand it or reciprocate it.

 

That was why he came at every opportunity, regardless if he had to undercut someone else’s shore leave to be there.

 

That was why he strove to rise through the ranks so quickly; to keep her in the comfort of which she’d become accustomed and pay the accompanying debt accrued.

 

That was why he obsessed in falling into favour of the powerful; to become one of them and punish those that had done this to her.

 

And the voice…. The one from his bedroom that night. He took his greatest inspiration from the bodiless promise the voice had made.

 

_Do as I instruct…. And I will return her to you. Free of affliction and illness, exactly as she used to be._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, not sorry.

**Author's Note:**

> As per the archive warning and the tags, this is going to get pretty horrible so please don't read if you don't think you can handle it. xxx


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